


Foundlings of a Feather

by batsingotham



Series: Foundlings of a Feather [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adorable Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, F/M, Force-Sensitive OC, Good Parent Din Djarin, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, OC ends up adopting Grogu (and Din while she's at it), Rare Comedian Din Djarin, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Soft Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, although really how can he not be, but idk I enjoy having him actually talk to someone, he probably talks more in this fic than most people are used to, minor dubcon, soundtrack included in series, the last 3 are only in chapters 22 and 23 just fyi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 171,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsingotham/pseuds/batsingotham
Summary: “‘Take the bounty without a puck,’ Karga said,” Sari grumbled as she fished out her hooked blades from her belt and sank them as hard as she could into the rock, using them to hoist herself up and create new footholds for herself before sinking the blades into the cliffside above her again. “‘It’ll pay big,’ he said. Who even uses tracking fobs anymore?”[In which another bounty hunter ends up beating the Mandalorian to the target on Arvala-7 and has an existential crisis over the innocently-oblivious Grogu until the Mandalorian catches up to her with an IG-11 unit in tow.]
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Foundlings of a Feather [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142219
Comments: 486
Kudos: 285





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an entirely self-indulgent fic (much like all of my fics, really) spurred by the hole in my heart left by the Season 2 finale. I really wanted to actually publish an OC fic after several months of keeping them to myself (fem!Arthur Merlin AU aside), and finishing my Mandalorian binge-watch gave me the creative energy to do so. I actually ended up writing 21k words for this fic within 3 days, so that felt like a good sign to keep going and eventually post this. :)
> 
> I apologize in advance for any missteps in Star Wars knowledge, as I actually have only ever seen The Mandalorian in the Star Wars universe (please correct me if I'm mistaken on anything and I'll be happy to go back and edit any incorrect details!).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari has an existential crisis over how cute her target is and decides the Mandalorian is a stubborn child who needs looking after just as much as the literal Child.

“Come on, don’t start complaining now,” Sari sighed heavily as her tiny ship’s engines whined in protest. She slammed her fist down on the blinking control panel and the ship quieted down again, sputtering toward the planet looming steadily closer. “That’s it, just a little further,” she coaxed it quietly before shaking her head wryly at herself. “I’m talking to a rusted pile of scrap metal.”

She jumped slightly as the radio crackled, scrambling for the old intercom and flipping on the communication channel hurriedly.

“-come in, Interstellar. This is a New Republic X-Wing patrol, do you copy? Repeat, this is a New Republic X-Wing patrol.”

“Yes, I copy, I hear you. Sorry, my comms are on the fritz,” Sari answered, pulling the intercom closer to her mouth and swearing inwardly; her ship would almost immediately be flagged as an Imperial model and gunned down.

She knew it had been a risk taking an Imperial ship, but it had been cheap and she had hoped to avoid any New Republic spacecrafts on the way to her destination like she had successfully done on every other mission she’d ever taken. It wasn’t as if she had had many options for non-Imperial ships when she had initially taken up bounty hunting for a living.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, keeping her voice as even as possible so that the radio wouldn’t pick up her rising panic as she glanced around for any sign of the ships targeting her. As she twisted in her seat, she spotted the two X-Wings flanking her ship on either side, hanging back just out of her field of view if she had been facing forward.

“Not at all, we’ll just need you to send out a ping or allow us to run your tags,” the X-Wing pilot who had initially spoken answered. “We don’t recognize your ship model and want to confirm you’re not Imperial.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll get right on that ping for you,” Sari lied, turning off the intercom and taking a moment to pretend to flip some switches before pushing forward on the throttle to zoom forward and praying that her ship could out-speed the X-Wings.

It seemed unlikely even as she dove down towards Arvala-7, the ship heating up to uncomfortable levels as she broke through the atmospheric level. She looked up through the window to see the X-Wings descending after her, gaining on her ship with ease. The Interstellar wouldn’t be able to outfly them, she knew, but she could hopefully lose them in the rocky terrain that she saw up ahead.

Diving into a canyon, she yanked on a lever to pull the Interstellar into a barrel roll, neatly dodging underneath one of the X-Wings as it soared past her. The Interstellar stalled in mid-air before the engines promptly cut out with a loud whine.

“Not _now_ , you pile of junk,” Sari muttered as the ship spiraled into a freefall that made her stomach flip uncomfortably, which wasn’t helped by a well-aimed blast from one of the X-Wings that took out the Interstellar's left engine. She slammed her fist into the “eject” button on the console to open the window above her and unbuckled her seat just in time to leap out of the falling spacecraft, tumbling sideways into a crevice in the rocky wall just large enough for her to squeeze into.

Mournfully, she peered over the ledge and watched as her ship landed with a loud explosion at the base of the canyon, a massive fireball consuming it and leaving behind a pile of burnt and dented metal. She doubted any of the parts would be worth salvaging as the X-Wings zoomed past her and back up towards the sky, apparently satisfied with the assumption that she had been destroyed along with the ship. Once they were fully out of view, she climbed out of the crevice she had rolled into, grimacing at the sensation of new bruises forming along her side and preparing herself for the long climb up and out of the canyon.

“‘Take the bounty without a puck,’ Karga said,” she grumbled as she fished out her hooked blades from her belt and sank them as hard as she could into the rock, using them to hoist herself up and create new footholds for herself before sinking the blades into the cliffside above her again. “‘It’ll pay big,’ he said. Who even uses tracking fobs anymore?”

Apparently, the Empire did; Sari hadn’t missed the Stormtroopers who had led her to the client hiring her to bring back the fifty-year-old target he had provided her a tracking fob for. She wondered how she would even accomplish her task without a ship to get her and the target back to Nevarro, which was half a galaxy away. Her ship, old and decrepit as it had been, had barely made the journey within two days, when she knew newer models could have gotten her there in less than a day.

Getting a distress call out to Kal was an option, of course, but that meant splitting her client’s payment with him, and while she and the other bounty hunter were dating - if she wanted to be generous and call the all-too-rare nights they got to share a few drinks and get pleasantly tipsy enough to stumble back to one of their temporary lodgings together as “dates” - she was running far too low on credits to risk splitting the admittedly-high bounty with anyone.

By the time Sari reached the top of the canyon, the sun was high in the sky and the rocky terrain had absorbed most of its heat, but she sprawled on the ground for a few moments to rest her aching arms and legs anyway, ignoring how the rock underneath her seared her skin. After catching her breath, she stowed her blades away again, climbing to her feet and grabbing her blaster gun before setting off at a pace that was slower than she would have liked it to be. She would have killed for a land-speeder or even an animal to ride, but she couldn’t see anything but sand, mud, and rock for miles around and didn’t dare deviate from the steadily-beeping tracking fob at her hip to try and search for a ride.

At last, legs aching and threatening to give out, Sari gave up and settled by an outcropping of rock to rest when the sun began to dip below the horizon and darkness began to fall. She stoked a fire to ward off the chilly night air with what few sticks of kindling she could find scattered around the sand, wishing she had some more supplies with her other than her weapons, a tiny bottle of bacta spray good for only one use, and a few pieces of dried bantha meat she had kept as a backup in the pouch on her belt. She nibbled on one of the latter just to give herself something to do as she leaned against the rock, not daring to doze off until the moon was high in the sky and had illuminated the entire terrain around her in a dim blue glow.

She was awake before the sun had even risen the next morning, but it still took her more than half a day’s worth of hiking up the mountain ridge until she reached an encampment of low buildings swarming with dozens of Nikto mercenaries, most of them huddled around a large metal shutter door that she suspected her tracking fob would lead her to.

“Dank farrik,” she swore under her breath, her throat dry and her voice hoarse from lack of use as she surveyed the town from the overlooking ridge. There was no way she could get through that many Niktos without getting riddled with holes from their blasters in the process, not to mention the mean-looking automatic blaster they were rolling out of view behind one of the buildings that she suspected they’d bring back out if they spotted any intruders. Her best bet would be to instead sneak around the back of the building and either find a door or detonate the back wall so that she could extract her target as quickly as possible.

Plan formed, Sari took a deep breath through her nose and leapt down from the ridge onto the nearest rooftop, ducking out of sight when the sound of her footsteps caught the attention of a nearby Nikto on the ground. Silently, she prayed the long braid she had pulled her black hair into had whipped out of sight in time as he stared up at the rooftop where she was hidden. He turned away after a moment and she let out a breath before hopping to the next rooftop, clutching her blaster gun tightly and keeping her thumb over the safety just in case she was taken by surprise.

Sure enough, as she reached the building just before the one the Niktos were huddled in front of, one of them climbed up onto the roof to set up a sniper rifle. He opened his mouth to call out an alert at the sight of her, but she fired a blast quickly at him and he crumpled to the rooftop, dead. She glanced up at the pale, cloudless sky above in a silent apology before hopping to the final rooftop, checking her tracking fob to make sure she was at the right building before dropping to the ground and scanning the wall for any sign of a door.

To her relief, she found a dull gray door, unsurprisingly locked, and decided to play it safe and pick the lock rather than blast the handle off and alert the Niktos on the other side of the building. With barely any effort, the lock clicked open and she slipped into the building, shutting the door behind herself before clicking the flashlight on her wrist gauntlet on and sweeping the beam of light over the room.

It was dusty, crates and barrels scattered everywhere, and Sari wondered how anyone could successfully hide out in a place that looked so abandoned. She glanced at her hip again, noticing the tracking fob beeping faster as she stepped further into the room until she reached a metal pod, at which point the fob’s light stopped blinking and remained steady, its beeps turning into a constant drone. Warily, she reached out for the pod, brushing away the cobwebs and dust surrounding it before prodding at any of the seams she could find.

Suddenly, the pod snapped open as Sari brushed her fingers over a hidden button and she jumped back, instinctively aiming her blaster at it, but then gaped at the tiny three-fingered hand grasping at the edge of one of the blankets bundled inside.

“Oh,” she said dumbly and the green alien baby - like no species she had ever seen - blinked back at her with large, dark eyes.

“Mweh?” he said and Sari stumbled back a step before sitting down unceremoniously on the floor in front of the pod as her legs gave out underneath her.

“They said you were _fifty_ ,” she bemoaned, dropping her head into her hands, and the baby cooed.

* * *

Sari didn’t know how long she’d been sitting on the floor having a miniature existential crisis by the time she registered the sound of blaster fire outside, the metal shutter rattling under the force of the battle raging in the town as she clambered to her feet. A quick glance at the watch on her wrist told her that an hour had passed.

The little green baby was still staring at her, his eyes wide and innocent.

“Don’t look at me like that, you were supposed to pay for a new ship,” she complained, rubbing at her aching eyes wearily.

“Bluh,” the baby answered solemnly.

“What does the Empire even want with a baby, anyway?” Sari added, tossing a glare at the ceiling viciously as if it could provide an answer. “Especially a fifty-year-old...what even are you? Some sort of mutant porg?”

She poked warily at the baby’s stomach and he grabbed onto her finger, promptly sticking it into his mouth to suckle on.

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” she scolded, yanking her hand away and wiping it free of baby saliva on her shirt. “You don’t even know where I’ve been.” The baby’s lip quivered and she reluctantly relented, giving him her finger again and glancing over her shoulder warily. “What do you think is going on out there?” she asked quietly and the baby gurgled in response. “Yeah, I figured that’s the case,” she agreed, deciding her mental state could do with pretending to understand the baby so that she didn’t have to think about how she was going to have to sell it out to the Empire.

The door slid open suddenly and she slammed the pod shut quickly as she scrambled for her blaster, aiming it at the two silhouettes approaching. One was clearly a droid, its long, lanky body too thin and angular to be anything else, and the other…

Sari had to squint before she recognized the glint of beskar from the stranger’s helmet and right pauldron as he lifted his own blaster to aim it at her. She’d seen the Mandalorian once or twice in passing at the cantina on Nevarro, but had hoped to never actually come face to face with him after the stories she had heard from Greef Karga and Kal.

“Don’t shoot, I’m in the Guild, too,” she said hurriedly, hoping it was enough to cover her.

“How did you get past the Niktos?” he demanded. Even filtered through the modulator in his helmet, his voice sounded rough and exhausted from the battle he had just fought outside.

“Back door.” Sari pointed over her shoulder at the door she had entered through and the Mandalorian’s gaze drifted up over her shoulder before he let out a long, heavy sigh, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t thought of a back door. “Let me guess, you were sent to collect a bounty by an Imperial client, too?”

“Get out of the way,” he answered stiffly and she noticed just how heavily armed he was aside from the simple blaster pistol he held, with a phase-pulse sniper blaster strapped to his back and flamethrower jets on each of his wrist gauntlets. “I’m not splitting the bounty a third time, I’ve already got a deal with the droid.”

“You’re gonna want to see who exactly we were sent to collect,” she warned as she glanced briefly at the droid in question, whose lenses squinted as it scanned the room.

“There is one other life form in this room,” it reported.

“How old does your tracking fob say the target is?” Sari pressed and the Mandalorian’s helmet tilted back in her direction.

“Fifty years,” he said cautiously.

“Yeah, well, apparently species age differently,” she hinted, swearing inwardly when she saw that the droid had its own blaster aimed at her; she could perhaps dodge the Mandalorian, but the droid would be a faster shot. “Just put the blasters down and I’ll show you,” she offered, taking a risk and holstering her own gun.

“I don’t think-” the Mandalorian began warily, lowering his blaster slightly in surprise, but it was just enough leeway for Sari to step aside and show him the pod.

“Lower the blaster and I’ll open it,” she said. “The target’s inside.”

“Inside _that_?” he repeated skeptically, but dropped his gun the rest of the way.

“Tell your droid to drop his blaster, too,” she insisted and he made an insulted noise underneath his helmet.

“He’s not _my_ droid.” Still, he gestured briefly to the droid to lower its blaster and Sari took a deep breath before swiping her thumb over the button she had discovered earlier.

“Bwah!” the baby greeted them cheerfully as the metal panels slid open.

“Oh,” the Mandalorian said faintly.

“That was my reaction, too,” Sari reassured him.

“It’s a baby.” He glanced at the tracking fob in his other hand, clearly bewildered. “But the fob said…”

“Species age differently,” the droid quoted Sari’s own words back to them, its robotic voice toneless. “Perhaps it could live many centuries.” Its lenses shifted as it examined the baby inside the pod before it lifted its blaster again, aiming it directly at the pod. “Sadly, we will never know.”

“Hey, no!” Sari scrambled to put herself between the baby and the droid, grabbing for her own blaster again. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“My commission was quite specific,” the droid insisted and Sari felt a cold twinge of fear as its lenses focused on her. She suspected she could reason with the Mandalorian, but droids were something else entirely. “The asset is to be terminated.”

“Well, _my_ commission was to bring the target in alive,” she retorted, hoping her voice didn’t tremble as she aimed her blaster at the droid’s central processing unit. “What about you? What did the client tell you?” she addressed the Mandalorian and he regarded her silently for far too long.

“Alive,” he answered quietly at last, but she saw him reach for his blaster again out of the corner of her eye. With both of them against her, she knew there was no chance of protecting the infant at her back, who was clutching at the hem of her shirt with tiny fingers and gurgling obliviously.

“You cannot outshoot me,” the droid told Sari and she wondered if someone had programmed a sense of ego into it.

“I’ll take my chances,” she said, swallowing as she clicked off the safety on her blaster and placed her finger on the trigger. Before she could determine if the droid would take the shot, a shot rang out and she squeezed her eyes shut instinctively, wondering if the droid had killed her before she had even had a chance to feel any pain.

“You can open your eyes,” the Mandalorian said dryly after a moment and she tentatively opened her eyes, flushing with embarrassment when she realized she was pointing her blaster at nothing and lowering it again.

The droid lay at her feet, a smoking crater in the side of its head the only indication of what had happened. Even as Sari watched, the red lights in its eyes faded and the soft whine of the droid’s central processing unit died out.

“What, did you think I was gonna let it shoot you and the kid?” the Mandalorian asked as he stepped around the droid’s carcass to examine the baby in the pod.

“Kind of, yeah,” Sari admitted, holstering her blaster and turning to regard him curiously as he slid one gloved finger into the baby’s extended hand. “Have you ever seen anything like him before?”

“No,” the Mandalorian said, helmet tilted down towards the tiny fingers wrapped around his. “You said you’re with the Guild?” he added, not looking away from the baby.

“I have been for a while now, yeah,” she answered. “I’m Sari. My partner’s Guild, too, Kal Soren. He said he’s met you before.”

“He has.” The Mandalorian finally looked back up at her, his helmet giving away no sign of what he was thinking. “Good sniper, terrible liar. Lost two rounds of sabacc to me a few weeks ago because he couldn’t keep a straight face.”

“Yeah, that’s Kal,” Sari confirmed, unable to help but crack a smile despite herself.

Sensing her amusement, the baby let out a peal of laughter, drawing both of their attention to him again. He blew a raspberry at no one in particular as he busied himself with playing with the edge of a blanket.

“So bad news, my ship’s a pile of scrap metal at the bottom of a canyon somewhere, thanks to a couple of New Republic X-Wings,” Sari explained to the Mandalorian. “But I’ll split the bounty with you fifty-fifty if you give me a lift back to Nevarro with the kid?” As much as she didn’t want to part with the amount of credits she’d been offered, she owed him her life.

He let out a heavy sigh, muffled by the beskar helmet. “Deal. Better you than a droid, anyway.”

“No love for droids, huh?” she guessed wryly, kicking aside the body of the droid at her feet before nudging the pod free of the boxes surrounding it.

“You could say that.” The Mandalorian held his wrist to the side of the pod, pairing his gauntlet with the pod’s hover controls, before tapping a button on his wrist to get the pod to lift into the air and drift towards him. “It’ll follow me now. Let’s go.”

Sari was more than relieved to follow him out of the encampment, the baby’s pod floating slowly between them as they made their way back out into the rocky plain that lay beyond the town.

* * *

“You said you crashed somewhere around here?” the Mandalorian asked as he brought out a pair of binocs to peer ahead along the canyon floor.

“Yeah, it took about a day and a half of hiking for me to get to the encampment. At least it was faster going down than up,” Sari confirmed, wiggling her fingers into the floating pod beside her to keep the baby inside entertained. “Speaking of which, how’d you get there so fast if you’re parked even further away and only got here this morning?”

“Rode a blurrg,” the Mandalorian said succinctly and Sari stared at the back of his helmet.

“Bless you?” she tried.

“No, that’s not-” He let out a sharp, frustrated puff of air through his nose. “It’s this creature an Ugnaught I met lent me. Told me that was the only way to avoid the canyon and make it to the encampment.”

“Wish I’d had access to one of those,” Sari complained, “I had to scale the canyon myself and then walk the whole way.”

“You scaled _this_ canyon?” The Mandalorian looked up, taking in the height of the canyon walls around them, before he dropped his gaze back to Sari. Even without being able to see his eyes, she knew he was sizing her up and shrugged, opening up one of the hooked blades hanging at her waist so that he could see it.

“Wasn’t too hard with these.” She snapped the blade shut again as he angled himself forward again, continuing down the path.

“Not bad. Takes a lot of core strength. I had to do something similar as a kid during my training.”

“What, you mean all you Mandalorians aren’t born perfect at everything?” Sari joked.

“I wasn’t born a Mandalorian,” he answered, his shoulders tensing slightly at the admission.

“Oh,” Sari said dumbly, unsure how else to respond. The baby saved the awkward moment by letting out a high-pitched squeal, waving his tiny arms in the air, and that was the only warning Sari had before four armor-clad Trandoshan mercenaries leapt out from crevices in the rock, blasters at the ready and tracking fobs identical to hers and the Mandalorian’s in their other hands.

She shoved the pod as far away from herself as she could, hearing the baby giggle madly as he zoomed across the canyon floor, before grabbing her blaster and taking out the nearest mercenary. Over his shoulder as he collapsed, she saw another Trandoshan leaping at the Mandalorian from behind as he electrocuted the one in front of him with his phase-pulse blaster.

“Your six, Mando!” she called and he spun around to slam his fist into the Trandoshan’s face. She quickly brought up her gun to take out the mercenary as he stumbled backwards from the force of the blow.

Before she could react, the Mandalorian lifted his blaster and shot over her shoulder, so closely that she could feel the heat as the laser blast soared past her ear and hit the mercenary who had snuck behind her and taken off at a run for the pod.

“Maybe a little warning for me to duck next time?” she suggested, rubbing her ear ruefully and hoping it wasn’t burned by the proximity of the laser blast, and she could sense the Mandalorian rolling his eyes under the helmet.

“Sure, I’ll make sure the enemy pauses just long enough for you to get a warning next time,” he deadpanned before tapping his gauntlet to bring the pod closer to them again, hooking his phase-pulse blaster on his back again.

The baby let out another squeal of delight as his pod was summoned back to them, his dark eyes crinkled with laughter.

“Well, at least one of us is having a good time,” Sari teased, poking the baby’s stomach gently and earning another giggle before nudging the pod along as the Mandalorian started walking again, stepping over the dead bodies they had left behind.

“Found what’s left of your ship,” he called over his shoulder and Sari picked up the pace, rounding the corner and grimacing at the sight of the Interstellar. The metal was warped from the heat of the explosion it had been through, burn marks littered across the former hull.

“Oh, yeah, there’s no saving this thing,” she said wearily as she glanced the wreckage over for any sign of salvageable parts. “Lucky I didn’t have much worth saving in there.”

“This is an Imperial ship,” the Mandalorian said suddenly, his voice hard and clipped, and Sari glanced over her shoulder at him warily.

“Yeah, I bought it a long time ago when the Empire was still in charge, what’s your point?” Realizing the cause of his abrupt change in mood, she added sharply, cheeks flushing with horrified indignation at the thought, “If you’re thinking I’m Imperial, you can knock that off right now. I’ve got no love for them, trust me.”

“I don’t,” he said shortly, storming past her as the baby drifted after him in its pod, gurgling happily to itself.

Huffing slightly to herself, Sari dug through the wreckage and found another pouch of supplies she had stored there, thankfully only singed by the explosion, before yanking it out and examining the contents briefly: another two single-use bottles of bacta spray, a few more strips of dried bantha meat, a canteen filled to the brim with potable water, and some protein blocks that likely tasted as bland and beige as they looked.

She hooked the pouch onto her belt and hurried after the Mandalorian, catching his gloved wrist to get his attention. He whirled around, his free hand already curling into a fist as it drew back before he recognized that it was just her and the tension in his shoulders eased slightly.

“I’m not an Imp,” she insisted. “Trust me or don’t, but that’s the truth. Just happened to have a ship made by them.”

“You’re collecting for an Imperial client,” he pointed out, but his tone was a little less abrasive as he lowered his fist.

“I could say the same for you,” she reminded him before noticing a gash in his upper arm, blood soaking into the fabric between the plates of armor he wore. “Are you hurt? I can take a look.”

“I’ll wrap it up later,” he dismissed, tugging his wrist out of her grasp and setting off again.

“Eh?” The baby blinked up at Sari inquisitively and she shrugged helplessly back at him.

“Kid, if men weren’t so stubborn, the universe would be a much better place.” She nudged the pod to get it moving again and began to follow the Mandalorian along the path out of the canyon.

* * *

“Would you stop so we can build a fire and camp out for the night?” Sari complained as they continued to trek along the rocky plain that lay above the canyon. The sun had set hours ago, based on what her watch told her, and yet the Mandalorian stubbornly continued on with no sign of fatigue. “You haven’t even wrapped up your arm yet and that cut’s gonna get infected if you don’t. Besides, the kid’s getting antsy,” she added with a pointed look at the squirming green child in the pod. He had been making increasingly-frustrated noises over the past couple hours as he tried to push himself out of the pod, only to have Sari nestle him back into his pile of blankets.

“Do you nag your boyfriend like this all the time, too?” the Mandalorian retorted dryly over his shoulder, but finally took a detour toward a rocky outcropping. Taking the opportunity before he could change his mind, Sari gathered a few sticks and brought them over to stack them together so that they could light a fire.

“No, because he’s not dumb enough to keep going with an injury for hours without stopping,” she answered the Mandalorian’s question cheerfully as she took a seat on the ground and he stopped in his tracks, his helmet angled down at her. “I can’t tell if you’re glaring at me or not with that helmet on,” she pointed out dryly. “Do you ever take it off, by the way?”

“No.” He sat down on the other side of the pile of kindling, finally removing the plate of armor surrounding his injury. It wasn’t made of beskar like his helmet and right pauldron, but rather a dull, plain metal like the rest of his armor, Sari noted absently as she lit the fire and stoked it with another small stick.

She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye just in time to see him wince as he examined the wound, which was enough for her to reach for one of the bottles of bacta spray in her belt and move around the fire to settle at his side.

“Here, let me.” The Mandalorian jerked back instinctively when she reached for his arm and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a baby, give it here.”

Reluctantly, he stretched his arm back out and she nudged the torn fabric of his sleeve aside, examining the deep cut briefly.

“Well, as far as cuts go, it could be worse.” She spritzed the wound with the bacta spray and he let out a sharp breath at the initial sting of the medicine. “There, it should be healed in a couple hours.”

“Thank you,” he said after a moment and she couldn’t stop herself from smirking back up at him.

“How much did that hurt you to say?”

Even with his face hidden, she could tell he was rolling his eyes as he tugged his arm out of her reach, reaching for the discarded piece of his armor to slide it back into place.

“Wouldn’t hurt at all if you weren’t so smug about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna try and feed the kid.” She climbed to her feet, then paused. “As soon as I _find_ the kid,” she amended, staring at the previously-occupied pod that was now decidedly empty.

“What?” The Mandalorian jolted to his feet, taking in the empty pod. “He’s so tiny, how could he have gotten out of there?” he demanded.

“Bwah.” They both looked down to see the baby sitting happily on the ground beside the fire, head tilted up at them curiously.

“Okay, one of us has to keep an eye on him constantly,” Sari said, relieved as she sank back down and scooped the child onto her knee to keep him from wandering off again.

“Agreed,” the Mandalorian said as he sat down slowly again, his hand lifting as if he was about to scrub it over his face before he seemed to remember he had a helmet on. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before he let it drop into his lap again. “He’s faster than I thought.”

“Do we even know if it’s a boy?” Sari pondered. “Should we check?”

“Considering we don’t even know his species, we’ll just have to make some assumptions unless he tells us otherwise,” the Mandalorian deadpanned. “Besides, he’s not gonna be with us that long.”

“Right,” Sari agreed, dropping her gaze down to the baby in her lap, who seemed content to fiddle with the edge of her sleeve as he leaned against her, burbling under his breath to himself.

“How long were you in that building with the kid, anyway?” the Mandalorian asked.

“An hour or so?” She shrugged. “I don’t know, I probably could’ve snuck him back out past the Niktos, but I was busy having an existential crisis before you and the droid barged in.”

“An existential crisis,” he repeated and she could hear the wry smile in his voice, vaguely wondering what it actually looked like behind the T-shaped darkened visor.

“You try reconciling the fact that we have to hand a kid over to someone who’s obviously Imperial or at least a sympathizer,” she retorted and his amusement quickly faded.

“He’s paying me in beskar,” he said quietly after a moment. “That’s the only reason I took the job. It belongs with its people.”

“I won’t deny that,” Sari agreed, but couldn’t help smoothing one finger over the baby’s tiny, wrinkled head, which was covered in fine white hair. He tilted his head up at her and let out a soft coo that shouldn’t have melted her heart, but did.

“Stop that.” She looked up, startled, to see the Mandalorian pointing a gloved finger at her in warning. “No getting attached. We hand the kid over, we pick up our payment, and we leave. That’s it.”

“Yeah, I never said I wasn’t on board with that plan,” she reminded him.

“Oh.” He visibly deflated, clearly having expected her to put up a fight. “Well. Good.”

“Great, we’re on the same page. I’ve got some dried bantha meat and protein blocks in my pack, if you’re hungry,” she offered.

“I’m fine,” he said with a shake of his head and she belatedly remembered that he most likely wouldn’t take off his helmet to eat around her.

“I can, y’know, turn around or something if you want to eat,” she suggested.

“That’s kind of you,” he said. To her surprise, he sounded sincere. “But I really am alright. Thank you.”

“Well, the offer stands,” Sari relented, fishing out a strip of meat and holding it out to the baby. “What about you, kid? Please tell me you eat this, I don’t have many options for you otherwise.” To her relief, the baby snatched the food out of her hands and scarfed it down in two bites. His little stomach was probably full with just the one piece, she reasoned as he settled back into her lap contentedly, making a soft rumbling noise to himself that sounded oddly like a loth-cat purring.

“I can’t blame you if you _are_ getting attached,” the Mandalorian said over her shoulder and she looked up to find his gaze aimed at the child in her lap. “He’s cute for a fifty-year-old baby.”

“Sure you’re not just projecting?” she joked and he leveled his expressionless helmet back up at her, making her speculate about what kind of face he was making at her without her knowledge. “Get some sleep, then, if you’re not going to eat. I can take first watch with the little escape artist here.” She shifted her knee briefly, making the child squeal in surprised delight as he bounced slightly on her leg.

The Mandalorian let out a soft, amused exhale of air that Sari suspected was as close to a laugh as she’d heard from him so far before he nodded once, shifting to lean back against a rock. “Alright. Wake me in a few hours.”

“Yep.” Sari took out another piece of dried bantha meat to nibble on herself as she settled in for the long night ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love The Mandalorian, you guys. I was never even that much into Star Wars before I started watching this show, and that, too, I only began watching because I finally caved in to find out what the fuss about Baby Yoda was. I've seen the light, I finally understand. Baby Yoda is love, Baby Yoda is life.
> 
> Also, Din Djarin is best dad.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this first chapter, and I look forward to posting more soon! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari stares into the camera like she's on The Office as the Mandalorian goes chasing after Jawas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick request to everyone reading who happens to have knowledge about American Sign Language or Baby Sign Language: please correct me if I make any misrepresentation regarding ASL, which is the kind I'll be using as Basic Sign Language in my Star Wars universe, as well as Baby Sign Language for any signs that Sari uses with Grogu.
> 
> I'll be happy to go back and fix any details that are incorrect as long as people send me a review letting me know. Thanks! :)

When Din blinked himself awake, the sun was already rising just above the horizon and the fire had dimmed to barely more than a few smoldering embers.

“I told you to wake me,” he reminded Sari, who was sitting a few feet away with the Child on the ground in front of her.

“What?” She glanced back up at him, distracted, and he noted the dark circles under her hazel eyes. The little flecks of gold within the sea of green stood out more in the early dawn light. “Oh. Sorry, I lost track of time. The kid and I have been busy.” She stretched her arms briefly over her head, revealing a strip of tanned skin at her navel that matched her exposed face and arms.

“Busy?” Din echoed, sitting up slightly and inwardly wincing at the crick in his neck from sleeping against a rock all night. To his relief, at least the bacta spray had done its job, leaving unmarked skin on his arm where the deep wound had been the previous night.

“Watch,” Sari said proudly as she turned to the Child regarding her calmly. “Okay, bud, do you want food?” She made an odd gesture by tapping her mouth with three fingers, her last two fingers folded into her palm. “Or do you want water?” She mimed a glass tipping towards her mouth, keeping her last two fingers folded.

The Child blew a raspberry at her.

“Well, that’s just rude,” she said, insulted, and took an immature moment to stick her tongue out at him in return, earning a delighted giggle, before glancing back at Din with a wry smile. “Figures that the one time I want to show it off, he acts up. I swear he was cooperating a minute ago, but now he’s being stubborn ‘cause you’re watching.”

“You’re teaching him sign language,” Din realized.

“Not actual sign language. That would require him knowing Basic already. But this is a simplified version for babies,” Sari clarified. “I picked it up when I babysat the younger kids on Sorgan.”

“That’s where you’re from? Sorgan?” It wasn’t a planet worth noting, as far as Din recalled; tiny villages, humid weather, and muggy swamps for the most part, but no cities or ports or any sign of radical politics at all. If she really was Imperial - which he doubted more with each passing minute when he remembered the indignant flush of her face and the fire in her eyes when he had accused her of exactly that - she had picked a good planet for her cover story.

Sari nodded in response to his question before turning back to the Child. “Alright, come on, kid, I know you’re proud of yourself for figuring this out, so let’s see you actually do it. Food?” She mimed food again. “Or water?” She mimed a drink of water.

“Why are you only using three fingers?” Din asked curiously and Sari turned faintly pink.

“I didn’t want him feeling bad for only having three fingers to use,” she mumbled and Din couldn’t prevent a snort of laughter from escaping. When was the last time he had laughed? He couldn’t recall.

Sari narrowed her eyes at him irritably and he bit his lip hard to stifle any further noise, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, okay, go ahead.”

She huffed before nudging the Child again, signing as she spoke, “Food or water?” Dropping her hands when he stuck his lower lip out in a pout, she added, “You have to sign it to me if you’re not going to use your words.” An odd little smile tugged at her lips, as if she were echoing the words of someone else.

The Child wrinkled his tiny nose in protest before finally copying her and tapping his fingers to his mouth slowly.

“Food,” she said, relieved. “Okay. Good job.” She broke off a piece of dried bantha meat from the pouch on her belt, pressing it into the Child’s hands, and he happily swallowed it. “Now, do you want more?” She tapped the fingers of both hands together. “Or are you all done?” She rotated her hands slowly, carefully keeping her last two fingers folded down, and Din had to stop himself from making another sound of amusement at the thought of her feeling guilty for having two extra fingers.

The Child considered her for a moment before mimicking the latter gesture, waving his hands in front of himself.

“Alright, great,” Sari said, pleased, and pocketed the pouch of dried meat again.

“You’re actually communicating with him,” Din said, still feeling a little dazed, as if he’d been hit over the head with a heavy object. Maybe it was the full night’s rest; he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept a whole night and woken up feeling pleasantly groggy.

“Well, as much as I can, anyway.” Sari scooped up the Child to set him back in his pod, dusting herself free of dirt from the ground. “I figure it’d at least help us figure out what he needs until we get him to Nevarro. Speaking of which, we should get moving.”

“You didn’t sleep at all,” Din accused as he climbed to his feet and she shrugged.

“I’ll catch up on rest later. I’m fine.”

He thought about arguing, but let it go after a moment, tapping his wrist gauntlet briefly to make the Child’s pod begin floating after him again as they set off across the plains.

* * *

“Should be coming up on the Razor Crest soon, it’s just over this ridge,” the Mandalorian told Sari over his shoulder and she gave a silent thanks to whatever higher power existed, because her feet felt like they were about to fall off from how much walking she’d done over the past few days.

“Should we be worried about the sand-crawler parked a few miles that way?” She nodded to the shadow in the distance and the Mandalorian followed her gaze.

“Yeah, not a great sign,” he confirmed before heading for the ridge, crouching to the ground. “Dank farrik,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled out his binocs to glance down into the valley.

“What is it?” Sari asked curiously and he passed her the binocs. She peered down at the tiny dots, zooming in on them with a flick of the dial on top of the binocs. “Jawas?” she echoed, both surprised and not at the same time as she recognized the little cloaked figures with glowing yellow eyes.

Jawas were nuisances at best, but the ship parts they were carrying out of the Mandalorian’s ship seemed to be important enough that it had the Mandalorian setting up his phase-pulse rifle, glancing through the scope briefly to line up his shot before disintegrating one of the Jawas. The others scattered with identical startled shrieks, hurrying to carry whatever parts they could to the sand-crawler.

“How good a sniper are you?” the Mandalorian asked without taking his eyes off his targets down below, destroying two more Jawas as he spoke.

“Not great, I’m a better shot at close range,” Sari confessed.

“Then stay near the Razor Crest with the kid.” The Mandalorian pressed a button on his wrist so that the pod wouldn’t follow him before grabbing the phase-pulse rifle and hopping down from the ridge. “I’m going after them and getting those parts back.”

“Hey, wait, you can’t take down a sand-crawler!” Sari called after him, but he’d already taken off at a run after the retreating Jawas, who quickly scurried into the sand-crawler as it began to trundle away.

The baby beside Sari let out a puff of breath and she glanced down at him, tucking the binocs into her pocket.

“I’m telling you, kid, stubborn men. Can’t do anything with ‘em.” She ruffled the wispy white hair on his little green head. “Come on, let’s get you out of the sun.” She tugged the pod down the ridge with her and over to the ransacked ship, examining the damage with a grimace as she nudged the child into the shade and out of the direct sunlight.

Loose wires dangled from the ceiling, sparking with electricity, and entire panels of the Razor Crest had been torn away, leaving the interior a mess of cables and torn metal. Climbing up the ladder and entering the bridge, Sari could see the control panel had been torn apart as well, several buttons and levers missing.

“What do you say, baby?” she offered to the child as she slid back down the ladder, who blinked back at her with large, solemn eyes. “Do we camp out here and wait for Mando to get back?”

“Eh,” the baby said in response, reaching out a tiny hand. She obediently gave him her finger, not thinking much of it and half-expecting him to try chewing on her knuckle again, but then froze as something seemed to push at the inside of her head, like a physical pressure against her brain.

She instinctively shook her head to dismiss the sensation, but the baby’s grip on her finger tightened and she noticed distractedly that he had screwed his eyes shut in concentration.

 _Grogu_. The word appeared in her mind unbidden and she tore her finger out of the baby’s hand instinctively.

“Grogu?” she said aloud and the baby gurgled in response, his ears twitching. “Is that your name? But how did you-?” She shook her head again; it was far too insane to think the baby had just pushed his own name into her mind. “Okay. Grogu, then.” She tentatively patted his head before deciding to put the strange incident out of her mind temporarily for her own sanity, peering out at the rapidly-vanishing sand-crawler.

Belatedly remembering the Mandalorian’s binocs still in her pocket, she pulled them out and squinted through them to see the Mandalorian climbing up the side of the sand-crawler, electrocuting Jawas left and right as they attempted to push him off. As he reached the top, he was almost immediately electrocuted in return by several Jawas, collapsing off the sand-crawler and landing on the ground with a painful-sounding thud that Sari could hear all the way back at the Razor Crest, where he lay motionless.

“Kriffing idiot,” she muttered before glancing sharply at Grogu. “Don’t repeat that when you learn to talk someday. Come on, let’s go make sure he’s not dead.”

The baby cooed as she tugged him along after her, wishing she had a remote on her wrist as well to control the pod. To her relief, by the time they reached the Mandalorian, he was stirring again, groaning and rubbing the back of his helmet as he pushed himself to sit upright.

“Anything injured?” Sari asked, trying not to sound amused for his sake.

“Just my pride,” he answered in an equally dry tone, accepting her outstretched hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. “How bad is the ship?”

“Definitely won’t fly,” she admitted. “There are loose wires all over the place and panels missing, and you’d probably know better than me what most of the missing parts did. Looks like we’re both grounded now.”

“Maybe not,” the Mandalorian said, examining the new scratches and dents in his armor. Only his beskar helmet and right pauldron seemed unmarked, which didn’t surprise Sari at all, from what little she’d heard about the rare metal. “The Ugnaught I told you about might be able to help. His home isn’t far from here.”

“You sure you’re not injured?” Sari asked as he turned towards the east and began to walk. “That was one hell of a fall you took.”

“My armor took most of the impact,” he reassured her. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” she relented. “Come on, Grogu.” She tugged the pod along after her and very nearly walked into the Mandalorian’s back as he stopped in his tracks.

“Grogu?” he echoed, a hint of a weary sigh in his voice. “I _told_ you not to get attached to him.”

“Hey, I didn’t name him that myself,” she retorted. “He told me what his name was.”

“He talks?” The Mandalorian wheeled around to face her properly.

“Well, no, but-” She rubbed her eyes briefly as they ached with exhaustion. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”

“I already think you’re insane,” he supplied.

“First of all, that’s rude and I refuse to dignify that with a response.” She pointed a finger directly at his darkened visor, positive that he was smirking behind it. “And second, I don’t even know what to call it, but he somehow pushed the name ‘Grogu’ into my head when he grabbed my hand. Have you ever heard of any species doing something like that?”

“No,” the Mandalorian admitted, dropping his gaze down to Grogu as the baby pushed himself upright in the pod beside Sari, ears perked at the sound of his name.

“I know what it sounds like, but I didn’t imagine it,” she insisted. “Give him your hand, maybe he’ll show you something, too.”

“I’m not giving the baby my hand,” the Mandalorian protested, taking a step back, and Sari rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand and pulling it closer to the pod until Grogu could clasp one of the gloved fingers.

The moment dragged on as the Mandalorian stared down at Grogu, whose little forehead wrinkled as he scrunched his eyes shut in concentration. Sari watched the expressionless helmet hopefully for any sign of a reaction.

“Alright, that’s enough, kid, don’t give yourself a headache doing whatever that is,” the Mandalorian sighed at last, pulling his hand away, and Grogu deflated, his expression shifting into a sullen pout.

“You didn’t hear anything?” Sari demanded and the Mandalorian shrugged.

“No, and you’re not really disproving my theory that you’re insane.”

“Fine, don’t believe me, then.” She threw her hands up in surrender. “Let’s go see this Ugnaught friend of yours and figure a way off this damn planet.”

* * *

“I thought you were dead,” the Ugnaught said as he took in the sight of the Mandalorian striding into his encampment that evening, Sari and Grogu not far behind. He focused on Sari next, taking in the blades on her belt and the blaster holstered against her thigh. “You are a bounty hunter, too? I thought I saw another ship fly overhead some days ago. Followed by X-Wings, if I recall correctly, and looked to be in terrible shape. I assumed you didn’t survive.”

“That would be me, I ended up crashing in the canyon and climbing my way out,” she confirmed. As much as she had complained about the state of her old ship, she still felt a twinge of indignation at the Ugnaught for insulting it. “I was after this little guy, too.” She gently nudged the pod beside her, making Grogu giggle as the Ugnaught looked down at him, his bushy white eyebrows rising high on his forehead.

“So _this_ is what caused all the fuss?”

“It’s a child,” the Mandalorian said irritably; he’d been in a sour mood ever since he had inspected the Razor Crest himself and found that the ship wouldn’t even start properly with how many parts the Jawas had stolen. Sensing the frustration rolling off him in waves, Sari had decided to keep her distance for the time being and not risk setting him off.

“It is better to deliver it alive, then,” the Ugnaught confirmed.

“My ship was destroyed by Jawas, we’re trapped here,” the Mandalorian explained.

“Stripped, not destroyed,” the Ugnaught clarified, “The Jawas steal, but they don’t destroy.”

“Stolen or destroyed makes no difference to me,” the Mandalorian retorted.

Grogu cooed, catching Sari’s attention, and she glanced down to see his large eyes following a frog hopping along on the ground. She lifted him out of the pod and set him down, watching him toddle after the frog on shaky little legs with his tiny arms outstretched. It was far more endearing than she wanted it to be and she had to swallow the lump in her throat down as she looked away again.

“They’re protected by their crawling fortress, there’s no way to recover the parts,” the Mandalorian added, but out of the corner of her eye, Sari noticed his helmet tilt down to watch Grogu as well. She wasn’t the only one getting attached after all, she realized with a little vindictive stab of relief.

“You could trade,” the Ugnaught offered.

“With Jawas?” The Mandalorian’s disgust at the thought couldn’t quite be filtered out by his voice modulator.

“I will take you to them in the morning. I have spoken,” the Ugnaught said simply, disappearing into his tent, and Sari knew there would be no further discussion on the subject.

“Hey, spit that out,” the Mandalorian scolded suddenly and Sari started in surprise, glancing down at Grogu to see him stuffing the frog into his mouth and swallowing it down.

“How did he even unhinge his jaw like that?” she asked, horrified as she watched Grogu burp loudly and then smile sweetly up at them like he hadn’t just devoured a live frog.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” To her relief, the Mandalorian sounded about as nauseated as she felt.

Grogu babbled to himself happily as he wobbled his way back to Sari, clinging to her leg as she wrinkled her nose down at him.

“Oh, no, don’t you try to make me forget how gross that was by acting all cute now.”

“Mweh?” He tilted his head innocently, large green ears flapping a little from the movement, and she rolled her eyes goodnaturedly before scooping him back up to set him in his pod again, adamantly refusing to acknowledge the sudden bloom of warmth in her chest.

“Well, at least we won’t have to feed him tonight,” she said over her shoulder to the Mandalorian, earning a muffled snort of amusement in response.

“Small favors.” His helmet tilted slightly. “I think he’s trying to tell you something.”

“Hm?” Sari turned back to Grogu, her eyebrows shooting up as she took in the sight of him tilting his hand towards his mouth slowly and repeatedly. “Oh. He’s signing for water. Hang on, kid.”

She fished out her canteen from her belt, glad that it was still half-full as she flipped open the lid and held it to the baby’s mouth. Grogu took several greedy gulps of water before shoving the canteen away from himself, signing “all done” as he did, and she rewarded him with a faint smile.

“You’re getting good at that, bud.” She held the canteen over her shoulder in a silent invitation, not looking behind her, and after a moment’s hesitation, the Mandalorian took it.

She heard the soft hiss of his helmet lifting slightly and the sound of his throat working to swallow a few gulps of water as Grogu pushed himself up in his pod to peer behind her curiously. Quickly, she covered the baby’s large eyes before he could attempt to get a glimpse of the Mandalorian’s face.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian said, his voice a little less rough than it had been all day as his helmet clicked back into place with another quiet hiss and the canteen pressed back into Sari’s free hand.

“Hey, I need you to give me a ride off this planet, I’m not about to let you get dehydrated on me,” she joked as she took a swig of water for herself before closing the canteen again and slipping it into the pouch on her belt.

“Not that,” the Mandalorian dismissed, but then thought better of it. “Okay, yes, that, too. But I meant the kid.”

“What?” Belatedly, Sari realized her other hand was still over Grogu’s eyes and he was grabbing at her fingers with his own to pull them away. “Oh, sorry, Grogu. I’ll let you look now.” She lowered her hand and he blew a raspberry at her reproachfully.

She heard the Mandalorian let out a weary sigh. “Still sticking to that name?”

“If he’s got one, I might as well use it,” she answered, ruffling the wispy white hair on the baby’s head as he settled again under her careful touch. She wondered if the Mandalorian would remind her yet again not to get attached and glanced over her shoulder when he took a deep breath.

Instead of scolding her, though, he just exhaled again slowly. “Get some sleep tonight. You’ve been up for two days straight now. I’ll watch the kid.”

“Fine, but wake me for the second shift, don’t stay up the whole night just ‘cause I did,” Sari warned and a faint, tinny chuckle escaped his voice modulator as he shook his head slightly, having been caught.

“Deal. Let’s get a fire going.”

* * *

Sari half-expected to be shaken awake at some point - or more likely, awoken by the rising sun, if the Mandalorian broke his word and kept watch over the child through the night - but she awoke of her own accord and peered hazily up at the darkened sky. It was still the middle of the night, based on how high the moon was in the sky, and the campfire was still flickering strongly a few feet away, so she wondered what had stirred her before a giggle caught her attention.

“This isn’t a game, stay in the pod,” the Mandalorian scolded under his breath and Sari turned her head from where it was pillowed by a rolled-up blanket in time to watch him scoop Grogu up by the armpits and drop him unceremoniously into the pod.

Almost immediately, Grogu clambered out and began toddling back to the Mandalorian with unnerving speed and another peal of laughter, his arms outstretched. The Mandalorian glanced over, catching Sari’s eye and shrugging helplessly as he grabbed the child to deposit him back in the pod.

“I’ve had to put him back about ten times now. Did he wake you with all that noise?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it, I slept enough.” She yawned as she pushed herself upright, brushing small grains of sand out of her long hair once she untied her braid.

Grogu climbed back out of the pod to toddle over to Sari instead when he noticed she was awake, clambering into her lap. He reached out immediately as soon as he was settled on her knee, his tiny hands tangling in her hair loosely.

“Don’t you dare try eating my hair,” she warned, but he only brushed her dark curls slowly with his fingers, watching the strands of hair slide through them with wide, fascinated eyes.

“Does he ever sleep?” the Mandalorian complained. Sari wasn’t sure if the exasperated fondness in his voice was real or imaginary in her half-asleep state. “I thought babies slept all the time.”

“He napped for a few hours when I was up with him last night,” she answered around another yawn, bouncing Grogu on her knee briefly and earning another giggle. “He’ll tire himself out soon, I’m sure it’s fine. You can sleep now, if you want. I’ll watch him the rest of the night.”

“I’m not tired,” the Mandalorian said distractedly, his gaze still fixed on the child combing his fingers through Sari’s hair, and she wondered for the millionth time since they’d met what he was thinking. After years of traveling around, she could read most people like an open book, but without a face to look at, it felt impossible to size the Mandalorian up.

“Credit for your thoughts?” she asked directly instead and his head shot up, clearly startled; that emotion, she could read even without seeing his face.

“Sorry,” he apologized when her eyebrows rose reflexively at his reaction. “I’m not used to people just asking like that.”

“It’s easier than spinning my own theories about what’s going on in your head,” she pointed out. “You don’t have to tell me, either, I was only curious.”

“I was thinking I’d like to know what made you leave Sorgan,” he said slowly after a long moment.

“You want to know about me?” She blinked, bewildered.

“We’re stuck together for the foreseeable future,” he reminded her. “It’s only fair.”

“The answer isn't even remotely interesting,” she admitted. “I got bored, wanted to see as much of the galaxy as I could. There’s nothing on Sorgan but cantina work and farming, so I saved up and bought the cheapest ship I could find when I turned eighteen - that Imperial Interstellar you hate so much - and I took off planet-hopping. Frankly, I’m surprised that ship even lasted this long, it was already half-rusted when I first got it.”

“And that led you to bounty hunting for the Guild,” he said skeptically.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Needed easy money, and I picked up shooting fast. Picked up plenty of things fast, actually - ship engineering, software programming, a couple of languages here and there. I’m kind of a jack of several trades, master of none. It’s not that much of a leap in logic to get into bounty hunting for a living from there.”

The Mandalorian sank back against the rock he had been leaning against, clearly disappointed.

“What, you wanted a tragic backstory?” she teased.

“Something better than you just doing this for thrills,” he muttered.

“Well, I could tell you how I was abandoned when I was too young to remember in a tiny krill-farming village on Sorgan and I have no idea who my family actually is or why they ditched me.” Sari dropped her gaze back to the child in her lap, who was dozing off with his head pillowed against her dark curtain of hair. She ignored how the Mandalorian’s helmet lifted back up in her direction again, intrigued. “I could also tell you how I was raised by a family in that village who already had a daughter, so she became like a sister to me. She’s got her own kid now, I visit them every now and then. And I could tell you how I transfer half my earnings every month to help the village out in return for them taking me in.”

“When’s the last time you saw your sister?” the Mandalorian asked, distracting her.

“Four years ago, or just about. Winta - her daughter - would’ve been around this one’s age.” She nodded down to Grogu, fully asleep now against her, before thinking better of it. “I mean, this one’s mental age. Never mind, I’ll just say Winta was two before I hurt my brain with those mental gymnastics.”

She shook her head, ignoring the Mandalorian’s nearly-silent snort of amusement that wasn’t quite filtered out by his voice modulator.

“Last time I went back was because Omera’s husband died and I didn’t want her to be alone. I stayed for a few months, helped out with Winta, and then I left again. Went back to picking up bounties and sending what I could back home, and now here we are. That’s the entire life story. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” the Mandalorian deadpanned, but Sari could hear the small smile in his voice; she’d convinced him she was worth putting some trust in.

“Your turn, should you so choose to share,” she offered with a wry grin in return.

“I do not,” he answered immediately and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, offer stands anytime you want. But you realize how unfair that is, right?”

“I’m aware,” he reassured her.

“Great, just so we’re clear.” She climbed to her feet, carefully untangling her hair from Grogu’s fingers before settling him back in his pod. He made a soft snuffling sound in his sleep and she swallowed back the lump in her throat as she tucked in the blankets around him before taking a seat by the small campfire again.

“Is that why you’re so attached to him?” The Mandalorian nodded to the pod briefly in response to Sari’s raised eyebrow. “The kid was alone like you.”

“And like you.” She watched his shoulders tighten instinctively in response, but he said nothing, the firelight flickering off the surface of his helmet as he stared at her. “You told me that you weren’t born a Mandalorian, which I assume means that they took you in after you were left alone somewhere. Am I right?” He remained unnervingly silent, leaving her to add, “You don’t have to tell me the circumstances if you don’t want to, or anything else about yourself. That’s fine. Just don’t pretend you’re above any of this by telling me not to get attached.”

“You know what? Maybe I _will_ get some sleep,” he decided abruptly, tilting his head back against the rock behind him.

Sari let at least two solid minutes tick by, counting the seconds in her head, before finally venturing, “You’re staring at the sky to avoid me asking more questions, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer, seemingly fast asleep with how still he was, but she knew she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll probably swap back and forth between both Sari and Din's POVs throughout this fic, specifically because I have an idea of certain scenes that I want to be from Din's perspective, but I figured I'd mainly differentiate them by the way I refer to Grogu (his name in Sari's POV and "the Child" in Din's POV until he finally figures out Sari really didn't just make a name up lol).
> 
> I was excited to write out some of Sari's backstory (and will definitely dive even more into it much, much later), but this is just a brief explanation for some context when it comes to the events of 1x04 that I'm drafting out right now.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari temporarily decides to go vegan and realizes that the Mandalorian really has just been surviving on sheer luck alone all this time.

“If I have to hear these little shits say ‘egg’ in Jawa-ese one more time, I’m going to lose my kriffing mind,” Din heard Sari mutter out of the corner of her mouth.

It was startling to hear her voice aimed at him again; she hadn’t spoken to him unless absolutely necessary since he had pretended to fall asleep the previous night to avoid her pressing questions or the intensely soft and sympathetic look on her face when she had accused him rightfully of being a foundling, but their current situation had apparently deemed it worth releasing her temporary grudge against him.

“Suga! Suga! Suga!” the Jawas around them continued to chorus in high-pitched voices as the sand-crawler carried them across the desert, banging their little fists on every surface they could find, and Din watched Sari’s eyebrow twitch in irritation in time with their chanting.

“I’m literally begging you for your pulse rifle,” she tried again under her breath desperately. “Just let me disperse the crowd a little.”

“No,” he sighed heavily, although the offer was sorely tempting.

“You’re getting mad, too, I can tell.”

“I’m fine,” he lied, but she narrowed her eyes at his visor as if she could see right through it and he decided not to try his luck by saying anything else.

The sand-crawler took the opportunity to roll over a particularly-large sand dune and he jolted out of his seat, his helmet hitting the roof above as he let out a startled grunt. The Jawas giggled madly at his discomfort and Sari raised her eyebrows hopefully, her hazel eyes wide and pleading.

“ _No_ ,” he told her pointedly and she deflated, turning to the pod nestled between them and nudging her finger into the Child’s waiting hands again. The Child - Din refused to consider the name Sari had bestowed upon the little green baby in some fit of madness back at the Razor Crest - gurgled in response, sticking Sari’s finger into his mouth to chew on her knuckle as she glanced back up at Din.

“Do we even know what kind of egg we’re supposed to find?”

“Suga!” the Jawas screeched at the mention of their favorite word and Sari closed her eyes slowly as she pinched the bridge of her nose hard enough with her free hand for her fingertips to turn white under the pressure.

“This is it. This is literal hell. I died and went downstairs for my sins.” As morbid as the sentiment was, it made the Child let out a squeaky laugh around her knuckle that had her smiling down at him wryly. “Oh, I’m glad my torment amuses you, you little sadist.” He cooed back at her innocently.

Taking pity on her, Din answered her initial question, “Either they don’t know or they do and they’re actively choosing not to tell us.”

“I vote the latter because they hate us,” she sighed, finally releasing the bridge of her nose and leaving two dull red imprints behind on her skin.

“If it makes you feel better, they mostly just hate me,” he told her, finding the sight oddly endearing.

“It doesn’t because you dragged me into it, too,” she retorted, but she was already cracking a smile again despite herself. “So should we establish a plan to get the-?” She glanced around at the Jawas warily, making sure they were sufficiently distracted, before silently finger-spelling “E-G-G” with one hand. He wondered if she actually knew he could sign, too, or whether she just assumed he’d understand by context alone.

“SUGA!”

“How do they know signs, too?!” Sari complained.

“Stop trying to say it,” Din suggested.

“I can’t, everything’s coming up ‘suga’ now. Suga is love, suga is life.” She slumped in her uncomfortably-tiny chair, defeated as the Jawas continued to shriek “SUGA” around them, and as annoyed as Din himself was, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “I give up. I’m going vegan, Mando.”

“Good luck with that, you’re the one with only dried bantha meat and protein blocks that likely contain animal fat for food,” he deadpanned and she fixed him with a dull glare that held no heat behind it as the Child giggled in the pod nestled between them.

Din was half-convinced the kid knew exactly what was being said around him.

* * *

“I do actually have a plan,” the Mandalorian told Sari as they made their way to the mouth of the muddy cave the Jawas had dropped them and Grogu’s pod off at before vanishing back to their camp with the sand-crawler.

“Oh, fantastic, because now we can actually say the word ‘egg’ again without those little gremlin voices trying to deafen me,” she answered dryly; she could still hear the word “suga” rattling around in her head and doubted it would fade until the day she died. “So what’s the plan?”

“You stay back with the kid, let me go in and get the egg,” he said and she balked, insulted.

“What, you want me to just sit back on the sidelines?” She pointed at the large cave and the deep muddy patches surrounding the entrance. “That’s a mudhorn’s cave. It’s bigger than you by at least four tons and probably hits ten times as hard. You can’t take that on alone if it catches you taking its egg.”

“If we’re lucky, it’s not even home,” he pointed out. “And if it _is_ home, you can at least keep the kid out of harm’s way. Here.” He unhooked the phase-pulse blaster from his back and held it out to her. “Set it up on the other side of that ridge. I know you said you’re not a good sniper, but you’re not exactly going to have trouble missing a mudhorn.”

“You’re not wrong,” she conceded, reluctantly taking the rifle from him. “Be careful in there.” He dipped his helmet in a brief acknowledgment before setting off into the cave as Sari retraced her steps back to the ridge where she and the Mandalorian had left Grogu napping in his pod.

The baby in question was now wide awake, his large, dark eyes watching as Sari approached him and crouched beside his pod on the ridge to set up the phase-pulse rifle.

“Bwah,” he told her solemnly and she wasn’t sure if she was imagining the sense of dread emanating from him or whether she was only projecting her own worry.

“I know, I don’t like him going in there alone, either,” she told Grogu. “But he’s been on his own for a while, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

She was almost immediately proven wrong as the Mandalorian flew backwards out of the cave, landing hard in a puddle of mud with a grunt and scrambling to his feet as the mudhorn charged out of the cave, snorting furiously. It was as massive as she had predicted, with a horn twice as long as Sari was tall and beady eyes that were locked onto the Mandalorian.

“Or he’s just been _very_ lucky his entire life so far,” she added under her breath to Grogu as she yanked the phase-pulse blaster into position. “Should I take the shot?” she called down to the Mandalorian.

“You have to ask?!” he shouted incredulously over his shoulder and she obediently fired off a laser blast that landed squarely against the mudhorn’s hide.

It seemed to do nothing more than anger the massive creature further as it slammed into the Mandalorian again and knocked him back into the ground. His armor was dented badly and covered in mud from head to toe. Sari noticed his chest plate had broken and was hanging loosely off one shoulder, leaving the dark undershirt he wore beneath exposed.

“Blasters won’t work on it!” she pointed out as she tried to take another shot and watched it bounce harmlessly off the mudhorn’s shaggy side. “I’m coming down, my blades might work!”

“Don’t! Stay where you are!” The Mandalorian was clearly injured, his breathing ragged as he grabbed for the pistol at his hip and fired off two shots in quick succession at the mudhorn’s face, but it seemed to have no effect as the mudhorn slammed its horn directly into his side and sending him sprawling into the mud again.

Sari rolled her eyes, telling Grogu sharply over her shoulder, “Stay here. Don’t move.” Ignoring the little “eh?” of confusion behind her, she unhooked her blades from her belt and snapped them open as she slid down the ridge.

She ignored the mud splashing up and over her boots as she took off at a run for the mudhorn from behind, jumping as high as she could and sinking the blades through the woolly fur on its back until they were embedded into its flesh. The mudhorn roared loudly enough to make Sari’s eardrums rattle as it flailed wildly and she clung onto the handles of her blades tightly as it tried to toss her off.

The Mandalorian staggered to his feet again and fired another shot from his blaster pistol. As the laser blast bounced off the mudhorn’s face without doing any damage, the creature focused on him again, but Sari yanked roughly on her blades to make it falter and stumble in pain. It jerked so suddenly that her fingers slipped off the handles of her blades and she was flung back into the mud, skidding several feet backwards and slamming against the wall of the ridge as pain exploded in her ribcage and the back of her head like fireworks. The taste of wet dirt filled her mouth and she stamped down the instinct to gag.

“Sari!” The Mandalorian’s voice modulator crackled under the strain as he shouted her name.

Through her haze of dizziness and agony, she heard a loud gurgle and, dread sinking in her stomach, turned to see Grogu’s pod drifting slowly down the ridge. Had the baby figured out how to navigate the thing on his own?

The mudhorn zeroed in on the source of the noise and pawed at the ground before charging forward towards Grogu, Sari’s blades swinging freely from its fur. The baby’s eyes widened as he noticed the danger he was in, a whimper escaping him.

“Mando, the kid!” Sari called and the Mandalorian scrambled to tap a button on his wrist gauntlet, sending the pod zooming sideways and out of the mudhorn’s way. The mudhorn skidded in an attempt to reorient itself before wheeling around to face the Mandalorian again. His shoulders set in grim determination as he pulled a vibroblade out from his muddy boot and held it in front of himself.

Sari struggled to regain her balance in the slippery mud as she climbed unsteadily to her feet, wiping mud from her eyes and wondering how exactly he planned to square up against a four-ton beast with a tiny dagger, but then gaped as the mudhorn seemed to freeze in its tracks. Slowly, it began to float into the air, its legs thrashing as it attempted to return to the solid ground below.

The Mandalorian seemed to be frozen in place, too, although Sari suspected it was more due to the same shock she was currently experiencing. The air around them seemed to tingle with energy and Sari followed it like a thread until her eyes fell on Grogu, whose eyes were shut tightly with one hand outstretched towards the mudhorn.

“No way,” she whispered, stunned, and the Mandalorian’s helmet whipped around to follow her gaze to Grogu’s pod.

“How-?” he began, clearly bewildered, but then Grogu slumped in his pod like a puppet with its strings cut and the mudhorn dropped to the ground again, fumbling to regain its balance before charging for the Mandalorian with a bellow that made the ground tremble.

He quickly shook himself out of his confusion and flipped the vibroblade in his hand before slamming it straight into the mudhorn’s neck. The beast screeched in agony, thrashing in an attempt to toss him off, but he held the vibroblade steady until the mudhorn collapsed at long last and lay still.

Sari spat out some mud onto the ground beside her and thought about scrubbing her tongue with the back of her hand before realizing there wasn’t a single clean spot on her body, so she had to settle for spitting a few more times on the ground.

“You saw that, too, right?” she asked once she was finally able to speak without grit coating her tongue.

“I saw it,” the Mandalorian confirmed wearily as he yanked his vibroblade free of the mudhorn’s neck and sheathed it back in his boot, a hint of a wheeze in his breathing as he stumbled over to the pod.

“Is Grogu okay?” Sari asked as she took in just how ominously still the bundle of blankets inside was, doing her best not to slip as she struggled across the muddy field to them.

The Mandalorian visibly hesitated, glancing briefly at her before finally sliding off his glove and placing the back of his hand under Grogu’s nose. Out of politeness, she tried not to stare, but couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of his skin, only a couple shades lighter than her own and marred by a few faded, old scars; he was very clearly human underneath all that armor.

“He’s breathing. I think he just passed out.” He slid his glove back on before turning to Sari. “Are you hurt? You hit the ridge hard and you’re not wearing any armor.”

“I’m fine,” she lied as she went to yank her hooked blades free from the mudhorn’s hide and cleaned them off on its shaggy fur, but the Mandalorian was at her side in the next instant, his fingers probing at the back of her head and brushing aside the already-drying clods of mud tangled in her hair. “Ow! Hey, stop that!” She swatted at his hands, but he ignored her.

“You’ve got a cut back here from hitting your head on the rocks. Probably a concussion, too. And I’m assuming broken or at the very least fractured ribs, too, based on your shallow breathing.”

“Alright, detective, relax. It’s nothing some bacta can’t fix,” she reassured him. “As long as you take the other bottle I’ve got for yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he echoed her lie.

“Sure, that’s why your modulator’s picking up that little wheeze I’m hearing,” she teased.

“I don’t _wheeze_ ,” he muttered around yet another wheezing breath.

“Sure, pal. Go get the egg. We’ll pass it off to the Jawas and patch ourselves up once we’ve got your ship parts back.” She nudged his shoulder lightly, mindful not to push him too hard in case he was more injured than he let on, and he took off towards the cave, vanishing inside.

Alone with Grogu again, Sari dropped her gaze down to the pod and took in the sight of his little chest rising and falling in time with his breathing.

“How did you do that?” she asked him quietly, not even expecting him to hear her with how exhausted he seemed after that exertion of power. “And how did I know it was you?” She wouldn’t have even guessed to look at Grogu without following that invisible thread of power, and she wondered if the Mandalorian had felt it, too, or whether he had only seen Grogu after she had pointed the baby out.

She didn’t have long to continue processing what she had just witnessed as the Mandalorian emerged from the cave, a massive woolly egg cradled in the crook of one elbow.

“Let’s go.” He tapped his wrist so that Grogu’s pod would follow them again and they set off towards the Jawa camp, tracking mud behind them as they walked.

* * *

The massive sled filled with ship parts they had liberated from the Jawas in exchange for the mudhorn egg was too much for Din alone to carry even without the gash in his side that the mudhorn’s onslaught had left behind. Although he would never admit it aloud, he was glad Sari and the Ugnaught were there to help drag the sled back to the Razor Crest with the help of the Ugnaught's blurrgs.

Sari, to her credit, hadn’t made a single complaint about her obvious injuries, although she winced often whenever she inhaled too deeply and clutched her side subtly enough that she thought he couldn’t see. She kept up a steady stream of casual conversation with the Ugnaught behind him - by listening in, Din found out the Ugnaught’s name was Kuiil and that he had earned his freedom from the Empire by way of his skills as a craftsman - and occasionally glanced worriedly into the pod floating beside the sled of ship parts.

“Kid still sleeping?” Din asked over his shoulder.

“Like the dead,” Sari confirmed, the dried mud covering every inch of her face making it difficult to read her expression, but her eyes continued to dart anxiously over to the pod.

“He will wake,” Kuiil reassured her. “Explain to me again what happened.”

“I’m not sure either of us understand it at all,” Sari admitted. “One minute, that mudhorn was going straight for Mando, and the next, it was floating off the ground. And I don’t know how, but I knew Grogu was doing it even before I looked at him.” That was news to Din; he had assumed she had just seen the Child like he had.

“Strange, indeed,” Kuiil mused to himself, but said nothing else until they reached the Razor Crest. He whistled long and low under his breath at the damage that had been done to it and Din felt another vindictive stab of irritation towards the Jawas.

“It’s all fixable, isn’t it?” Sari asked, tilting her head up to examine the damage again herself.

“Sure, but it’ll take days, even if we had a full maintenance crew on hand,” Din pointed out.

“If you two care to help, it might go faster. There is much work to do,” Kuiil answered. “But first, see to it that hot water is running and get that muck off, the both of you. I have spoken.”

Rolling his eyes and knowing neither Kuiil nor Sari could see it, Din entered the ship to check on the refresher next to the two small sleeping berths. He turned on the shower to check that hot water was running before calling over his shoulder as he stepped back out of the refresher, “Hot water still works. Sari, do you want the first shower?”

“You go ahead,” she called back distractedly and he glanced through a space where a panel of metal should have been to see her sitting on the ground in front of the Child’s pod, her knees drawn up to her chest as she watched the Child sleeping inside.

He decided to put it out of his mind for now as he turned away; she wouldn’t take well to any reminder to keep her distance from the Child.

“Oh, wait, before you go, take this,” she called abruptly and he turned back to her just in time to catch the tiny bottle of bacta spray she had thrown at him. She pointedly turned her back again so that he couldn’t protest and he reluctantly conceded, returning to the refresher.

The shower chamber was cramped and small, but he was used to it, first stepping under the hot spray in full armor and letting the water sluice off the dried mud and dirt before discarding his armor and underclothes in the drying chamber to scrub himself clean quickly next. The bacta spray stung as he sprayed it over the gash in his side the mudhorn had left when its horn had made impact, but he could feel the medicine already working to knit the wound closed by the time he turned off the shower spray and stepped out into the drying chamber.

While the dryer hadn’t fully worked to remove all moisture from his clothes and armor, they were dry enough to slip back on once he was clean and he took a moment to inspect the armor briefly. His helmet and right pauldron were unmarred in any way, but his chest plate was ruined beyond repair. With the amount of beskar the client would pay him with, though, he would be able to ask the Armorer to craft an entire set of armor for him, in addition to setting aside some extra beskar for the foundlings in his covert.

He gave up the rest of the dented metal as a lost cause as well, sliding on his helmet and making sure it clicked into place before leaving the Razor Crest.

“Where’s Kuiil?” he asked when he noticed only Sari sitting outside and she shrugged one shoulder.

“Went back to his place to grab tools. Did you use the bacta spray?” She grinned when he remained silent, secretly rolling his eyes at her from under his helmet. “I’ve got you pegged by now, buddy, you’d be too stubborn to use it if I didn’t force you to.”

“I used it,” he confirmed, ignoring her. “Now it’s your turn. Fair warning, the hot water might work, but the dryer’s hot air isn’t up to normal standard. We’ll need to fix that later.”

“Anything’s better than being covered in mud,” she reassured him, climbing to her feet and palming another tiny bottle of bacta spray from her belt. “Let me know if the kid wakes up while I’m gone.” He nodded and she gave him a faint, grateful smile before vanishing into the ship to take her own shower.

Once he heard the refresher door slide shut behind her, he took a moment to let the tension drain from his aching shoulders as he sat down wearily on the Razor Crest’s lowered ramp in front of the Child’s pod, examining the slumbering baby inside.

“I don’t know what you did back there or why, but thank you,” he said quietly, wondering if the Child could even hear him with how deeply comatose he seemed to be. Still, he had to get it off his chest before the guilt of having to hand the Child over to the Empire could settle in any further. “Guess we know now why you’re such a high-profile target.” Before he could stop himself, he reached out, prodding the Child carefully in the shoulder. The Child snuffled slightly, the first sound he had made since he had fallen asleep, but remained still.

Although he knew he should pull his hand away, Din let it rest against the edge of the pod until soft footsteps against metal gave away Sari’s approach. He let his hand drop again, turning to glance over his shoulder at her. Her clothes and hair were still slightly damp from her shower, the drying chamber having not fully worked to dry her off just as it hadn’t for him, but her cheeks glowed a healthy pink from the residual heat of the water.

“I had no idea how much I missed being clean,” she said vehemently as she took a seat gingerly on the edge of the Razor Crest’s ramp beside him, combing through her long, dark hair with her fingers to remove any tangles. It was starting to curl wildly in different directions as it air-dried under the waning sunlight. “I thought that mudhorn had knocked my sense of hearing out of whack. Turns out I’d just had mud in my ears.”

“Did you use the bacta spray?” Din turned her own question on her, ignoring her complaints, and she snorted with amusement.

“Okay, turnabout is fair play. Yes, I did.” She swatted at his hand when he reached for the back of her head, but he ignored her. As he parted her hair to check on her injury, he noticed a tattoo just above the curve of her right ear that read “SD-523” in plain black ink, like it had been stamped into her skin.

“What does ‘SD-523’ mean?” he asked and she frowned briefly before realizing what he was referring to, her fingers coming up to absently trace the numbers in a well-practiced motion.

“No idea, I’ve had that tattoo as long as I can remember.” She shrugged one shoulder, dropping her hand again and letting her hair fall over her ear to cover the tattoo. “The number doesn't mean anything to me, so I doubt I got it as a drunken decision or anything.”

Deciding to put it out of his mind - the less mysteries he dwelled on that day, the better - Din focused on checking the cut on the back of her head again. It was already much smaller than it had been earlier that day, thanks to the bacta, so he relented and pulled back again.

“How are your ribs?”

“They’re not broken, I checked,” she reassured him, her fingers working expertly to braid her hair back again. “Mostly bruised with only one fracture, but that’ll heal in time on its own if I’m careful.” Her eyes fell on the Child’s pod. “Still asleep?” Her voice turned just a little softer as a note of worry crept in.

“Yeah.”

Sari let out a long exhale through her nose as she reached for the pod and slid her finger into the Child’s loose grasp. “Remind me not to get attached,” she said quietly.

Din found that he couldn’t force the words past the sudden lump in his throat, so he stayed silent.

* * *

“Alright, let’s put her to the test.” The Mandalorian flipped a few switches and pulled a lever on the control panel. Sari could hear him let out a slow, relieved breath as the engines of the Razor Crest powered up successfully and remained on without sputtering as they had for the past three days while they had worked on repairs with Kuiil’s help.

“It seems you are ready to take off,” the Ugnaught in question said behind them and the Mandalorian turned to him after powering down the ship again.

“We can’t thank you enough for all of your help.” He glanced briefly at Sari, who nodded in return; they’d already discussed the possible payment they could give Kuiil for working with them on reparations to the Razor Crest. “Please allow us to give you a portion of the reward.”

Kuiil was shaking his head even before the Mandalorian could finish his offer. “I cannot accept. You are both my guests, and I am therefore in your service.”

“I could use a crew member of your ability,” the Mandalorian tried again, “And I can pay handsomely.”

“I am honored,” Kuiil reassured him, “But I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude.”

“Then all we can offer is our thanks.” The Mandalorian held out his hand and Kuiil shook it briefly before taking Sari’s outstretched hand to do the same.

“And I offer mine. Thank you for bringing peace to my valley.” He glanced at the pod nestled beside the co-pilot’s chair that Sari would be taking soon. “Good luck with the Child. May it survive and bring you both a handsome reward. I have spoken.”

With that, he took his quiet leave of the ship and the Mandalorian sank into the pilot’s seat, Sari buckling herself into the co-pilot’s seat beside him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I liked Kuiil’s company, but I am _so_ glad to be leaving this planet,” she said, relaxing into the leather seat. Every muscle in her body ached after the hard work it had taken to rebuild the ship, her eyes sore with lack of sleep as she either worked on repairs through the night or kept watch over Grogu, who hadn’t so much as stirred once since their fight with the mudhorn.

“You and me both,” the Mandalorian agreed, turning on the engines again. “Buckled in?”

“Yep, I’m ready.” She gave him a thumbs-up.

“Kid’s secure?” he pressed and she glanced over at Grogu, brushing a finger over the top of his head briefly before nudging the pod a couple times to make sure it was nestled tightly between her chair and the wall of the ship.

“He’s good,” she confirmed.

“Alright. Grab that lever for me and hold it steady until we’re near the atmosphere,” he instructed, nodding to the lever in front of her. She took it and pulled it down, feeling a little thrill of relief as they lifted off the ground smoothly and the Razor Crest soared upwards.

As the sky faded from a bright blue to an inky black and stars overtook the clouds, Sari released the lever and tilted her head back against the headrest of her seat, watching as they soared into space. It never got old for her - even after years of traveling - to see the vastness of the universe expand before her as they left the atmosphere of Arvala-7 behind.

“Mweh?” The soft, sleepy sound beside Sari had her whipping around so fast that her still-injured ribs twinged in protest.

“There you are,” she said, relieved, as Grogu rubbed his eyes with tiny fists and pushed himself upright. He yawned squeakily and she cracked a smile despite herself. “Good morning to you, too.”

“He’s awake?” The Mandalorian peered across Sari at the pod. “About time, he’s been asleep for nearly four whole days now.”

“Don’t judge, stopping that mudhorn must have taken a lot out of him,” she reminded him before breaking off a small strip of dried bantha meat from her pack - one of the last bits of food she had left - and pressing it into Grogu’s hands. He grabbed the strip and began to chew on it ravenously, leaving Sari to focus back on the expanse of stars in front of her instead. “So is it straight to Nevarro, then?”

“Yeah. Straight to Nevarro.” She wondered if she had imagined the slight hesitation in the Mandalorian’s voice as he pushed a button and the Razor Crest rocketed forward. “Alright, coordinates are locked in. Should take us about sixteen hours to get there, if you want to get some sleep. I’m going to send a transmission ahead to Greef Karga to let him know we’re coming.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Sari climbed to her feet, making Grogu look up from his meal with a soft “eh?” of confusion as to where she was going. “I’m gonna take one of the rooms downstairs, give me a shout if you need a hand with flying or watching the kid.” She watched the beskar helmet tip downwards briefly in acknowledgment before patting Grogu on the head one last time and climbing down the ladder into the main corridor.

She was familiar enough with the layout after spending so much time on repairing the ship, but still found herself meandering on her way to the sleeping berths like it was her first time on the Razor Crest as she looked around. It was odd being on any spacecraft larger than the Interstellar - although that wasn’t much of a standard, since the Interstellar was barely larger than an X-Wing, and the Razor Crest was easily triple its size.

“Stop touching things,” she heard the Mandalorian scold quietly upstairs, followed quickly by Grogu giggling, and shook her head wryly; of _course_ the baby had already gotten into mischief within minutes of waking up from a coma. “No, hey, don’t unscrew that-” A long, tinny sigh followed and Sari snorted quietly before she could stop herself. “I can hear you laughing,” the Mandalorian said pointedly, raising his voice slightly so that she knew it was aimed at her.

“Do you want me to come back up and wrangle him?” she called back, grinning.

He sighed again heavily. “No, it’s fine. Go to bed.”

“If you say so,” she conceded, waiting another moment to make sure Grogu wasn’t causing any more trouble before finally opening the door to one of the sleeping berths. The room was barely large enough to do anything more than sidle inside and climb into the cot, the walls a dull gray metal.

Sari pulled the thin blanket covering the cot over herself as she lay down, her muscles instinctively going lax at the feeling of an actual bed underneath her rather than the hard ground or the thin bedrolls that Kuiil had provided her and the Mandalorian while they had been working on the ship. Granted, the cots in the Razor Crest weren’t exactly high-quality feather mattresses, but they were much better than nothing.

It barely took more than a minute for Sari to drift into sleep, lulled by the white noise of the Razor Crest’s inner machinery and the distant sound of the Mandalorian’s voice as he continued to reprimand Grogu for getting into something he shouldn’t have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn, I loved writing their annoyance with the Jawas, and I was tempted to put that scene of the negotiation with the Jawas in - particularly Din losing his temper and attempting to torch all of the Jawas while Sari stares at him like he's a maniac - before I realized it would start becoming an episode rehash, which is ideally what I'd like to avoid.
> 
> Still, we're finally off Arvala-7 and on our way back to Nevarro, so I'm excited to keep the plot going from here. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I will have the next one up soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang makes it back to Nevarro and Sari's moral crisis comes flooding back in full force.

_She was cold, wet and shaking, even swaddled in a blanket as tightly as she was. Everything around her was a blur of color and noise except the pair of arms cradling her tightly as they carried her quickly down a hallway._

_She opened her mouth to speak, but a low whimper left her throat instead and the person holding her hushed her._

_“Be still, Sarika,” she murmured and Sari melted into her warmth; the woman was familiar, whoever she was. She had long, dark hair that tumbled down her shoulders in loose curls and Sari reached up to play with the nearest curl absently as the woman carried her out into the chilly night. “We must get you away from here,” she added to Sari, who tried to peer up at her face in the darkness, but couldn’t quite make out any features other than her dark brown eyes._

_“M-” She stopped herself, remembering that she should be silent, and the woman smiled sadly down at her, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes._

_“It’s time to go now, my little one.” Before Sari knew it, she was being passed off to another set of arms, unfamiliar and far less experienced at holding children, from the awkward way he held her._

_She let out a soft cry of protest and reached out for the woman who had been holding her, clutching at the front of her shirt, but the woman delicately untangled Sari’s small fingers from the fabric just as quickly._

_“Make sure no one follows you.” Her voice shifted to something more hard and stern as she glanced up at the stranger holding Sari. “Take her to a planet where no one would think to look for her. It doesn’t matter where. Don’t inform me of her whereabouts or it might get back to them.” Her gaze softened again as she looked down at Sari one last time before taking a few steps back. “Goodbye, Sarika.”_

_“Mama,” Sari blurted out desperately, her voice hoarse from lack of use as she reached out a tiny hand to the woman again, but the door of the spacecraft she had been passed into slid shut, engulfing her and the stranger holding her in darkness as the ship took off._

_“Poor kid’s shaking like a leaf,” she heard the man holding her tell the pilot, a hint of sympathy in his rough voice, and realized she was indeed still trembling._

“Sari? We’re a few minutes out from Nevarro.”

_“Set a course for Sorgan. No one will look there, it’s all backwater swamps. No cities, no ports of any kind. I’ll see if I can grab her another blanket.”_

“Come on, time to get up.”

_She couldn't stop trembling even when the second blanket slid around her small shoulders. She was so cold._

“Sari?” A gloved hand shook Sari’s ankle gently and she bolted upright, startled, as the Mandalorian started in surprise as well from where he stood in the doorway to the sleeping berth, releasing her ankle like he’d been burned and backing up a step with his hands in the air. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, you’re fine, my fault,” she managed to get out around a gulp of air, shaking her head to dismiss the sudden fight-or-flight reflex. Her ribs ached from the sudden movement, but she ignored them. “I didn’t react fast enough, but I heard you the first time.”

“You’re shaking,” he pointed out and she glanced down at her hands to see that they were trembling badly. “Bad dream?”

“No, I’m fine,” she lied, clenching her fists to keep her fingers still. She tried to recall what her dream had been about, but the details were already slipping away like water through a sieve.

“Eh?” Grogu clambered up onto the cot and the Mandalorian’s helmet swiveled down to face him.

“I left you in your pod,” he accused even as Grogu climbed into Sari’s lap and settled on her knee like he belonged there. He blew a raspberry at the Mandalorian, who sighed heavily. “It’s been nothing but this for sixteen hours straight.”

“I slept through the whole flight?” Sari asked around a yawn, her heart rate slowing again as she slid her arms around Grogu half-consciously to pull the baby close. He burbled happily up at her, a tiny three-fingered hand coming up to pat her cheek. She couldn’t help but smile down at him faintly, already feeling a little better, before leveling an accusing glare up at the Mandalorian. “You could’ve traded off with me earlier.”

“You needed the rest and I wasn’t tired.” He shrugged one shoulder before turning back to return to the ladder. “Come on, we’ll be landing soon.”

“Right.” Sari scooped Grogu up as she climbed to her feet, straightening the blanket on the cot with one hand carefully before following the Mandalorian up to the bridge of the Razor Crest. “Did Karga get back to you?” she asked as she buckled herself back in to prepare for their landing.

“He did,” the Mandalorian confirmed. “He said the client’s getting impatient, so we’re to head straight to the drop-off point and deliver the kid. After that, we’re in the clear.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sari placed Grogu in his pod, purposely ignoring how he whined and clung to the front of her shirt in an attempt to stay in her arms and how it seemed vaguely familiar. It must have been memories of Winta clinging to her before she had left Sorgan the last time, she told herself as she dismissed the feeling that it was something more than that.

“Karga also mentioned that your boyfriend’s been getting increasingly more worried while you were gone,” the Mandalorian added dryly.

“That boy would work himself up into a panic if I was gone even five minutes longer than I said I would be.” Sari rolled her eyes, earning a snort of amusement from the Mandalorian. “Trust me, he’s fine.”

The truth was that she hadn’t even thought once about Kal since the first time she had mentioned him to the Mandalorian nearly a week earlier, far too occupied with everything they had been going through in between, and she decided not to bother feeling guilty; it wasn’t as if Kal thought of her all the time when he was on a mission himself, nor were they all that serious, anyway.

“We’re coming up now, get ready for descent.” The Mandalorian nodded to the approaching planet of Nevarro ahead and Sari sat upright in her seat again, grasping one of the levers to engage in the descent protocol. “Keep that steady,” he instructed her as they brought the Razor Crest down through the atmosphere and guided it over to the town before landing the ship carefully outside the gates. “Smoother landing than I usually get out of this thing,” the Mandalorian noted to himself after they reached the ground, patting the control panel approvingly once he had powered down the ship’s engine.

“I’ll give Kuiil full credit for that,” Sari agreed, climbing to her feet once she had unbuckled her restraints and tugging Grogu’s pod out from where it had been nestled between the co-pilot’s seat and the wall of the ship. “It’s a shame he didn’t want to work for you full-time, you might’ve gotten some regular maintenance for the Razor Crest.”

“Hmm,” the Mandalorian hummed noncommittally before descending down the ladder, tapping his wrist gauntlet for Grogu’s pod to drift down after him. “What will you do without a ship?” he asked over his shoulder as Sari slid down the ladder to fall into step on his other side.

She shrugged. “I guess I’m stuck planet-side for a while until I can save up for a new one. Not the end of the world or anything.”

“If you say so,” he said doubtfully and she chose to ignore it, glancing briefly at the pod floating on his other side to see Grogu peering out at the town beyond the lowered ramp, gurgling curiously as he looked around. He had no idea what they were about to do to him, and a stab of guilt wormed its way into Sari’s heart as she focused her gaze ahead again. The less time she had to think about what they were doing, the better.

As they strode through the town, people turned to stare at the odd group they made, but Sari kept her eyes forward, not daring to distract herself from the mission in front of her. She was just shaken up from the nightmare she couldn’t remember, she told herself. It wasn’t because she was about to hand over a baby to an Imperial client.

The Mandalorian took out the small chit he had been given from his belt as they approached the drop-off point, scanning it against the small entry sensor and waiting until the door slid open and two Stormtroopers came out. Sari tensed instinctively at the sight of them, automatically taking a step closer to the Mandalorian’s side, and he glanced briefly at her before focusing back on the Stormtroopers as they took in the sight of Grogu in his pod. One of them gestured with the blaster rifle he was holding for them to enter the building and the door slid shut behind them as they went inside.

“Easy with that,” the Mandalorian cautioned when the other Stormtrooper grabbed the edge of the pod to roughly tug it along and Sari had to swallow back the lump in her throat at the startled squeak Grogu let out in response.

“ _You_ take it easy,” the Stormtrooper said irritably, his voice even more distorted through the modulator in his helmet than the Mandalorian’s.

Sari opened her mouth to retort hotly, but the back of the Mandalorian’s hand knocked against hers and she glanced up at him in time to see him shake his head minutely. She exhaled sharply through her nose instead, turning to face forward again as they were led into the large room where she had first received her tracking fob.

The client who had handed her the tracking fob, an elderly human, sat behind his desk, his eyes falling on Grogu’s pod immediately. The spectacled doctor beside him gaped at Grogu as well, clearly stunned to see him.

“Yes,” the client said with relish, a humorless smile spreading across his face as he climbed to his feet and rounded his desk to peer down at Grogu, who blinked up at him nervously. “Yes, yes, yes.”

The doctor joined the client, pulling out a scanner and waving it over Grogu’s face as the baby squinted against the orange light. “Very healthy,” he confirmed.

“Your reputation was not unwarranted,” the client addressed the Mandalorian.

“I can’t take all the credit.” The Mandalorian dipped his helmet down in Sari’s direction briefly and she wiggled her fingers in a brief wave when the client glanced in her direction for only a moment before his gaze slid back to the Mandalorian. Clearly, she was not as memorable a bounty hunter. He probably didn’t even remember giving her the job. “How many fobs did you give out? She had one, too,” the Mandalorian accused.

“This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery.” The client shrugged, unrepentant, before going back to his desk and retrieving a camtono from underneath. “But to the winners go the spoils.” He placed the camtono on the desk, opening it to reveal a stack of twenty beskar ingots, more than Sari had ever seen in her life.

The Mandalorian left Sari’s side to take two ingots and inspect them, his fingers tracing over the Imperial symbol stamped into the corners absently before he nodded briefly to confirm their authenticity and placed the ingots back on top of the pile.

“Such a large bounty for such a small package,” the client said, his unpleasant eyes fixed on Grogu as the doctor began to lead the pod to a back room.

“Eh?” Grogu twisted in his nest of blankets to peer back at Sari and the Mandalorian, his dark eyes wide and fearful suddenly, and opened his mouth to begin crying just as the door slid shut after him.

Sari felt her heart lurch at the cut-off sound, very nearly taking a step towards the back room from the sheer force of the urge to follow Grogu, before stamping down the urge as quickly as she could. When she looked up again, she found the Mandalorian staring at the closed door as well, distracted entirely from the beskar.

“What are your plans for it?” His voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke again, although Sari wasn’t sure if she had imagined it or not.

“How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation.” The client tutted disappointedly. “You have taken both commission and payment.”

Sari glanced over her shoulder as more Stormtroopers began to filter into the room, some with their hands on their blasters as if they were itching to fire them.

“Is it not the code of the Guild that these events are now forgotten?” the client added, his cold eyes still fixed on the Mandalorian. “That beskar is more than enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor.” He eyed the broken, dented chest plate hanging off the Mandalorian’s left shoulder. “Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” He finally turned his attention on Sari, who instinctively stepped closer to the Mandalorian again. “I assume you’d like to split the reward.”

“That’s what the two of us agreed on,” she confirmed, just barely managing to even out her voice in time.

“Well, beskar is clearly of no use to you, so I’ll be taking half back and providing the equivalent value in credits,” the client said, gesturing to a Stormtrooper to step forward and take the camtono away.

The Mandalorian tensed instinctively, his hand twitching at his side as if to reach for the camtono and snatch it away before the Stormtrooper could, but Sari blurted out impulsively, “I’ll take it as is.”

The Stormtrooper froze with his hand on the handle of the camtono, his helmet swiveling between her and the client, and the Mandalorian stiffened, his head tilting in Sari’s direction to stare her down even as she ignored him.

“I want the beskar,” she repeated, careful to keep her expression neutral.

“How interesting. A girl who knows the value of beskar steel.” The client looked Sari up and down curiously, sizing her up internally, before nodding once to the Stormtrooper to release the camtono and then reaching for a second one from under the desk to divide the pile of beskar ingots in half. He passed the second camtono to Sari, who took it and did her best not to struggle under the weight. The Mandalorian took the other camtono and stormed out without waiting for Sari to follow.

As the door of the drop-off point slid shut behind her, she hefted the camtono in her grasp before taking off at a jog to catch up to the Mandalorian’s longer stride.

“Here,” she said, shoving the camtono at him, and he barely turned in time to catch it, stumbling a step back in surprise. “I didn’t want to tip them off by telling them to give it all to you,” she explained as he lifted his head to stare at her.

“Oh,” he said after a moment, sounding a little embarrassed; she assumed he had thought she’d actually wanted the beskar for herself. “But we agreed to split it fifty-fifty.”

“It’s fine, I don’t-” She scrubbed a hand over her stinging eyes quickly. “I don’t really feel good about taking any payment for this,” she admitted once she had composed herself again, keeping her gaze trained on his boots.

“Sari, I-” he began, but didn’t finish his sentence. A long moment passed before he took a deep breath. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can make it up to-”

“Get that armor fixed and that’s enough for me,” she interrupted him, forcing a tiny smile as she glanced back up at the darkened T-shaped visor and wondered what kind of expression he wore behind it. “Thanks for the ride back, Mando. I’ll see you around.” She held her hand out and he set one of the camtonos down to grasp her hand tightly. His hand was large enough to engulf hers entirely, his fingers warm even through the leather of his glove as he shook her hand.

“I’ll see you around,” he echoed.

* * *

“You did _what_?” Kal leaned across the table, jaw dropping, and Sari rolled her eyes.

“Inside voices,” she reminded him, casting a pointed look to several patrons at the cantina bar who had turned their way, and Kal huffed a little, sitting back in his seat. His dark blond hair caught the dim afternoon light filtering in through the cantina window, turning it a faint silver instead to match the few gray hairs at his temples.

“I can’t help how I react if you make a kriffing stupid decision.”

Sari bristled at the insult. “I knew what I was doing, and he needed it more than me.”

“You’re literally stranded planet-side with no ship and no way to earn money to _get_ another ship,” he reminded her a little more gently. “Sure, you’re always welcome to fly with me, you know that, but I can’t fly you to all your pucks on top of my own. So why the hell would you give away all your hard-earned beskar - stuff that could put you in the literal millions, credit-wise - to the Mandalorian?”

“It belongs to his people on principle,” she answered firmly. “I’m not arguing with you about this, Kal, it’s already done.”

He sighed heavily. “I guess I’m buying rounds for a while, then.” He was already cracking a smile again and she let the tension drain out of her shoulders slowly; she knew he could never hold a grudge for long.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promised, nudging her foot against his under the table. “Get me something strong, please?”

He eyed her warily - she had never really been one for strong drinks and they both knew it - but nodded slowly as he got up to place their orders at the bar. Sari knew he suspected there was more to the mission than what little she had told him about finding the target on Arvala-7 and getting the Mandalorian’s help in bringing him back to Nevarro, but thankfully, he hadn’t pressed her for details. After all, he was likely still nursing a bruised ego since he himself had been given a tracking fob - as had everyone else at the cantina, as Sari had found out when she had arrived a couple of hours earlier and interrogated everyone she’d known at the bar - but only she and the Mandalorian had been quick enough in retrieving the target.

Secretly, she felt a little relieved they had been the ones to find Grogu; she doubted anyone else would have been quite as careful with the baby. Even Kal, for all his good traits, was deadly with a sniper rifle and often too focused on a mission when he had one, and Sari hesitated to believe that he would have bothered to keep Grogu entirely out of harm’s way.

The doors of the cantina slid open and the Mandalorian stepped inside, the daylight behind him gleaming off the newly-forged set of beskar armor he wore, as Sari sat up straight in her chair, unable to help but stare. In her defense, most of the other bounty hunters had also turned to eye the Mandalorian as he strode across the room and took a seat opposite Greef Karga in the corner booth, presumably to get his next bounty puck. Karga was his usual boisterous self, but Sari couldn’t bring herself to focus on what he was saying as he swept his arm to gesture at the rest of the bar patrons, too preoccupied by the new armor the Mandalorian sported.

“Jeez,” Kal said under his breath, sinking into his seat again and placing a glass in front of Sari. The liquid in the glass was a shocking shade of cobalt blue and smelled like rubbing alcohol, which meant it was exactly as strong as she had wanted it to be. “You ever seen armor like that? Makes you wish you kept some of the raw materials for yourself, doesn’t it?” he added a little teasingly.

“It really doesn’t,” Sari answered distractedly, forcibly tearing her gaze away from the two men in the corner. “Suits him better.”

Seeing the Mandalorian again only made her think of Grogu - his defenseless, sad eyes as he was pulled away into another room and the frightened wail that had begun to escape his throat before it had been abruptly cut off by the door closing on him.

“Easy, sweetheart, the cantina’s not running dry anytime soon,” Kal said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as Sari abruptly grabbed her glass and tossed back the drink in one gulp in a desperate attempt to wipe the memory of Grogu’s terrified little green face out of her mind.

The strong liquor burned a path down her throat and it was all she could do to keep herself from coughing as she cleared her throat instead to compose herself, setting the glass back down gingerly on the table.

“What’s wrong?” Kal reached across the table, covering her hand, and she turned it over in his grasp to clutch his fingers tightly. “I’ve never seen you this pale and your hand’s as cold as ice. Did something spook you on that mission?”

“I’m fine,” she lied as the alcohol settled in her stomach, leaving her feeling uncomfortably warm. “Just been a long week, that’s all.”

“Well, if something _is_ wrong, will you tell me?” He lifted their intertwined hands to press a kiss to her knuckles and she couldn’t help a weak smile; all minor pet peeves about him inside, he was a decent guy, which was rare enough even outside of the profession they were both in.

“I will,” she said as she squeezed his fingers in return, even though she knew she would never tell him about Grogu. “Thanks. And I’ll take it easy with the drinks, that one already hit me harder than I expected,” she half-joked.

“Sari.” The modulated voice above her made her look up from their conversation, startled. The Mandalorian was standing by her table, tucking a new bounty puck into his belt. “Can I talk to you outside?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said before she even had a chance to think about it.

“She’s busy,” Kal said at the same time and she turned to raise her eyebrows at him, tugging her hand away from his.

“By all means, keep deciding my schedule for me, see where that gets you.”

He flushed bright red and ducked his head sheepishly, which gave her an excuse to get up from her seat and follow the Mandalorian out of the cantina and into the alleyway between it and the next building over.

“Nice armor,” she said when he didn’t say anything.

“Oh.” He glanced down at himself self-consciously, as if just realizing that he was wearing a new set of armor. “Thanks.”

When he said nothing else, she pressed, “So?”

“You said you were going to be stuck here without a ship, and Kuiil turned down my offer to be a crew member, so I thought I’d give you the same offer, if you wanted it. I can pay you. I owe you for the beskar, anyway.” For all his confidence in a fight, he seemed so unsure of himself now that his words came out in a rushed breath, so quick that Sari almost didn’t catch them.

“You want to give me a steady job?” she asked, stunned.

“You probably know the Razor Crest better than anyone but me,” he pointed out. “And I only take the highest bounties. If we split each reward evenly, you’d have enough for your own ship in no time.”

“You know there are plenty of better mechanics than me,” she reminded him. “Hell, half of the people in this town are better than me.”

“I’m not asking them. I’m asking you.” His hands came up, moving in a quick flurry of deliberate gestures, and only years of practice made her realize he was signing to her.

_Karga is watching us through the window. He doesn’t know signs._

“Alright. You’ve got a new crew member, then,” she agreed without much thought to the matter, far more focused now on signing back as she lifted her own hands.

_What is it?_

He let out a small, relieved breath - although whether it was because she had accepted the job offer or because she had understood his message, she didn’t know.

“Good. I’ve got a new puck. Nobleman’s son skipping bail, should be easy enough.” His hands moved as he spoke, signing something else entirely.

_I asked about the kid. What they want with him. Karga doesn’t know._

She let out a frustrated exhale of her own. It seemed like the Imperial client had kept his lips tightly sealed; she had asked around the cantina long before the Mandalorian or even Kal had shown up, but no one had known of the client’s intentions, even though every single one of them had had a tracking fob for Grogu.

She signed as much to the Mandalorian even as she asked aloud, “Where’s the target, then?”

“On Karnac. Ocean dune planet, a solid two-day trip from here. Interested in tagging along?”

_I’m breaking him out tonight. Will you help me?_

She gaped at him, hoping Karga would take it as shock over the voyage’s length instead. “Oh, uh, yeah,” she agreed out loud when she regained control of her voice, not bothering to sign back as she dropped her hands. The sentiment was the same, regardless of which question she was answering. “Yeah, of course.”

“See you at sundown, then?” he offered, “Same place?” Anyone listening would have assumed the Razor Crest, but she knew he meant the Imperial hideout.

“See you then,” she agreed and he held out his hand. She grasped it tightly for a moment even as she lifted her free hand, flicking it out from under her chin towards him.

_Thank you._

He dipped his head in acknowledgment before walking past her, the back of his hand brushing hers briefly on his way out of the alleyway.

“What was _that_?” Kal peered out the window of the cantina, leaning over Karga’s corner table to reach it as he stared at Sari in surprise.

“Got myself a new job,” she answered, managing to sound just as stunned as him. It didn’t take much acting on her part; the fact that the Mandalorian was just as worried about Grogu’s safety as she was really _had_ taken her by surprise.

“Quit leaning over my table, Soren!” Karga scolded, shoving Kal aside with a goodnatured roll of his eyes before raising an eyebrow at Sari skeptically on the other side of the window. “What’s all this about? You’ve never worked a steady gig in your life.”

She shrugged back at him innocently. “You’re the one who keeps saying I’m too nice for this line of work, Greef. At least ‘ship mechanic’ is a little more respectable.”

He chuckled, relaxing a little, and she hoped it had been enough to dissuade his suspicions. “You’re not wrong. Take care of that Razor Crest. She’s a real gem of a ship.”

“I know,” she reassured him, but her mind was already focused on the latest mission ahead of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, the flashbacks are not going to be easy to write for me without being too ham-fisted with the foreshadowing, but I wanted to start hinting at Sari's backstory early on. It's gonna be a nice slow burn to getting all the details of it, but I'm excited to dive into it. And hey, now you guys know her full first name, even if she herself might not yet *side-eyes Sari*.
> 
> Also, Kal is not a bad guy by any means, but let's be honest, he never stood a chance the moment the Mandalorian entered the picture. Sorry, my dude, you tried. :P
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari and the Mandalorian stage a jailbreak for their newly-adopted child and drama unfolds.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger,” Sari said lightly as she crouched on the rooftop beside the Mandalorian as he peered across the street at the Imperial hideout through his binocs.

“Very funny,” he deadpanned before launching straight into his observations. “Stormtroopers patrol the perimeter every fifteen minutes, by my count. We’ve got that amount of time to run recon and find our way in.”

“What, we’re not knocking on the front door?” she asked innocently and the helmet turned towards her silently. She rolled her eyes back at him; his sense of humor had either died long ago or it had never existed in the first place. “Okay, fine, recon it is. Give me a commlink, I’ll head down there and case the building.”

“I can do it,” he pointed out.

“With your shiny new armor?” She made a show of glancing him up and down and he turned back to the building quickly, clearly flustered. “No offense, but you’d be spotted in a second. I’m smaller and faster, and they won’t remember what I look like as much as they’d remember you.”

After a moment, he silently brought out a commlink from his belt and held it out to her. She took it, tucking it into the collar of her shirt.

“I’m gonna take a walk around, see what I can find.” She returned down to the street level, tapping the commlink briefly. “Just testing, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he reassured her. “The entry sensor’s going to spot you if you walk across the front. Take the alley first and then go around the other way.”

Sari followed his instructions, keeping a deliberately slow pace as she made her way around the building, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed something very familiar in the trash behind the building.

“Mando, the pod’s here,” she croaked, horrified. “It’s been destroyed.”

“Stay where you are,” he ordered, clicking off the commlink, and within barely a minute, he appeared at her side, taking in the sight of the smashed pod lying in the pile of garbage.

Sari didn’t want to think about why they had had to destroy the pod - had Grogu tried to lock himself inside and had they pried him out? - as nausea churned in her stomach.

“He must still be in the building,” the Mandalorian said, distracting her from her growing anxiety as he ran his hand along the back wall of the building. “The wall’s thin enough that one of my charges should take it out, but we need most of the Stormtroopers on the other side or they’ll swamp us.”

“So how do we get them out front?” she asked and he shrugged.

“We do it your way.” He passed her an explosive charge. “Place this on the wall and press the button to prime it when you hear me knock on the door, then get clear. I’ll set it off when I come back around to you.”

“Got it.” Sari clutched the device tightly as the Mandalorian rounded the building again.

When she heard him tap his knuckles on the front door, she pressed the explosive charge to the thinnest part of the wall she could find and pushed the button in the center to prepare it before retreating behind the wall of the next building. She could hear the Mandalorian snapping the entry sensor off its attachment as it beeped frantically before ducking out of sight as Stormtroopers burst out the front door, flooding the street and shouting orders to each other.

“Is it primed?” the Mandalorian asked as he rejoined Sari and she nodded. He pressed a button on his wrist gauntlet and the wall exploded, leaving a large hole for them to enter through. He pulled out his blaster as she did the same, following him into the building.

As Sari’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, she saw the Mandalorian sign single-handedly for her to go to the other side of the room. She nodded back to him in acknowledgment, falling back against the far wall as two Stormtroopers ran into the room to investigate the explosion. The Mandalorian took out the first one with a single blast and Sari was only a split moment behind him in shooting the second one squarely in the chest. Both Stormtroopers collapsed with heavy thuds, leaving Sari and the Mandalorian to enter the hallway the Stormtroopers had entered from.

“Any idea where to go?” she whispered.

“The room has to be close to the one we were in earlier,” he answered under his breath, glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure she was at his back. “The building’s not that big, we should be coming up on it soon.”

He held his hand up to stop her from taking another step forward before silently moving behind a Stormtrooper facing away from them and wrapping his vambrace-covered forearm around the other man’s neck until he slumped unconsciously in the Mandalorian’s grasp. The Mandalorian dropped him before beckoning Sari forward again as she hurried to join him.

“Why so many guards for such a small hideout?” she wondered, half to herself, but then the next room’s door slid open to reveal the doctor leaning over a tiny bundle of blankets locked into a machine.

The doctor spun around to face them, startled.

“Wait, no, please, it’s just a child, don’t hurt it!” he pleaded as the Mandalorian stormed in and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat to lift him into the air single-handedly.

“What did you do to him?!” he snarled as Sari rushed past them to the table.

“Grogu,” she breathed, horrified as she scrambled to try and pull the restraints of the machine off the child. Grogu’s eyes fluttered weakly at the sound of her voice and he let out a faint whimper that tore at her heart.

“What did you do to him?!” the Mandalorian pressed behind her, throwing the doctor to the floor and aiming his blaster at his head.

“I-I protected him!” The doctor cowered away from the barrel of the pistol. “I swear, I protected him! If I hadn’t, he’d already be dead!” He began to cry out of fear, burying his head in his hands.

Sari couldn’t see how that was true as she gave up on unlocking the machine and instead tore the whole thing off the table entirely, hauling the bundle of blankets into the crook of her free arm as Grogu pressed his head weakly underneath her chin. Lowering his gun, the Mandalorian turned to her and jerked his head silently towards the door. She glanced at the doctor trembling and sobbing in the corner one last time before following the Mandalorian out into the hallway, clutching Grogu tightly.

“Which way out? They’ll be swarming around the back where we came in,” she pointed out.

“Then we leave through the front door,” he answered. “Keep him close, I’ll cover you.”

“No arguments there,” she reassured him; she doubted she could bring herself to release the tiny bundle tucked against her shoulder anytime soon.

True to his word, the Mandalorian stayed a few feet ahead of Sari and Grogu, taking down any Stormtrooper they came across and leaving the Imperial soldiers either dead, unconscious, or burned to a crisp from the flamethrower jets on his wrist gauntlets. To Sari’s dismay, however, as they stepped into the client’s main office, several Stormtroopers were already there waiting for them.

“Freeze!” one of them commanded and the Mandalorian and Sari stopped in their tracks as all of the guns in the room lifted to aim squarely at them.

“Drop your weapons or we’ll shoot!” another Stormtrooper added.

“You don’t want to do that,” the Mandalorian cautioned. “What we’ve got is very valuable.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Sari, put your blaster and the kid down.”

She gaped at him. “Pardon?”

“Trust me.” He lowered his own blaster and placed it on the ground slowly and, casting a skeptical look his way, Sari echoed the motion as she tried to ignore Grogu attempting to cling to her feebly.

“Now stand up with your hands in the air, both of you!” the first Stormtrooper said sharply and the Mandalorian climbed to his feet, lifting his hands in the air as Sari did the same, heart pounding in her throat as Grogu began to cry, realizing she wouldn’t be picking him up.

“Please tell me you have a plan,” she hissed under her breath and the Mandalorian didn’t respond.

“Don’t move-” the Stormtrooper began, but before he could finish, several missiles launched from the Mandalorian’s wrist gauntlet, targeting all of the men surrounding them and landing squarely on their chests before exploding.

“Whistling birds,” the Mandalorian explained to Sari as he snatched his blaster up from the floor again once all of the Stormtroopers had collapsed. “I owe you for that extra beskar, it’s the only reason I have them.”

“You’re welcome, but a little warning next time, please,” she said dryly as she scrambled to pick Grogu up first and then her own blaster to holster it on her thigh.

The baby’s tears dried the moment he was settled against her shoulder as he relaxed into her embrace with a soft, fearful whimper, his tiny fingers curling into the material of her shirt again.

“I know, bud. It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?” she crooned soothingly as the Mandalorian went to the door to peer out into the front hallway. “We’ll get out of here soon.”

“The path’s clear, let’s move,” the Mandalorian said over his shoulder and she followed him out of the building, glancing around at the empty streets as they walked.

“It’s too quiet,” she said under her breath to him, but then very nearly stumbled as a blaster shot landed right at her feet and Grogu let out a startled shriek as he clutched the front of her shirt tightly.

Kal stepped out of the shadows of a nearby alley, his pistol smoking.

“Did you just shoot at me?” Sari blurted out, stunned.

“That was a warning shot,” he said, although he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes as he lifted a familiar tracking fob for her to see. The light flashed a bright red, faint beeps emerging from the device. “I figured it was better that I found you first. Everyone’s fobs went off the moment you took the bounty.”

“You _shot_ at me!” Sari repeated, her shock quickly replaced by indignant rage.

“Drop the target and I won’t have to take another shot.” Kal lifted his hands slightly in surrender, still clutching his pistol. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sari.”

“Great. Mando, take the kid.” Sari passed Grogu off to the Mandalorian, who fumbled to nestle him in the crook of his free arm, before drawing her own blaster again. “Keep going, I’ll catch up.”

He hesitated only a moment before nodding briefly and taking off down the street again. Kal brought up his gun to aim at the Mandalorian’s retreating back, but Sari lifted her own blaster to aim at Kal’s head and he froze, startled.

“You wouldn’t,” he said as he took a cautious step towards her.

“Oh, no?” She dropped her blaster quickly to fire off a shot at the dirt between his feet. He jumped back again with a startled yelp. “That was a warning shot,” she echoed his words as she aimed back up again, scowling. “The next one goes in your head if you take another step forward.”

“You’re bluffing,” he pointed out, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying how little he believed his own words. “Sari, come on, don’t be stupid. That target-”

“He’s a _baby_ , Kal, not a target!” she snapped. “I don’t care how much money the Empire’s paying for him, they can’t have him!”

“Look, sweetheart, it’s been a long week for you,” he reasoned, softening his tone as he lowered his blaster slowly. “You’re exhausted and shaken up, and you’re not thinking straight. I could tell even at the cantina that you were thinking about doing something rash. Stop the Mandalorian before he gets too far and we can talk this out, but don’t make the biggest mistake of your life out of some misguided sense of justice.”

“ _Misguided_?” she echoed incredulously. “How is keeping a child safe ‘misguided’ now?”

He let out a shaky exhale; Sari hadn’t seen him so nervous since the first time he had asked to buy her a drink years earlier. “Either I can take you in now or the entire Guild will come after you. I can’t protect you if that happens.”

“I don’t need your damn protection,” she snapped back. “There’s nothing to talk about here. You and I are done. I’m going to walk right out of town with that kid and the Mandalorian, and you’re not going to follow me, stop me, or see me ever again. Got it?”

When he only stared at her instead of responding, blue eyes wide and hurt, she carefully holstered her blaster and turned her back on him to head down the street the way the Mandalorian had gone. She knew Kal could take her out right then and there if he really wanted to and braced herself in anticipation of a laser blast right to her back, but no attack came from behind her.

When she rounded the corner, she chanced a look over her shoulder to find that Kal hadn’t followed her, just as she had requested. She would likely feel the heartbreak of losing him as at least a friend, if not a partner, later - probably cry until there were no more tears left to shed once they were out in the emptiness of space and the danger had subsided at last - but for now, all she could think of was getting back to the Mandalorian and Grogu.

Unfortunately, she found them surrounded by Guild members on all sides, Greef Karga standing between them and the town gate. A land-speeder had pulled up and parked beside the Mandalorian with a droid pilot operating it.

“There you are, Sari,” Karga said cheerfully when she pushed her way through the crowd, forcing her way to the Mandalorian’s side. Grogu gurgled faintly with relief at the sight of her from where he was nestled against the Mandalorian’s chest. “I was wondering if Soren would stop you or not.” Karga’s tone was as pleasant as if they were chatting on a casual afternoon in the cantina.

“Like he could try,” she deadpanned, although she knew perfectly well that Kal could have easily taken her out without batting an eye if he so chose. She had seen it happen more than enough times first-hand. “So what’s the hold-up here?” she addressed the Mandalorian, hoping to sound as casual as possible, and he let out a weary sigh.

“They won’t let us get to the ship.”

“You put the bounty down and you’re welcome to go anywhere you want,” Karga pointed out.

“Wouldn’t happen to have more whistling birds on you, by any chance, would you?” Sari whispered under her breath and the Mandalorian shook his head subtly.

“The kid’s coming with us,” he said aloud to Karga, tightening his hold on Grogu instinctively.

“If you truly care about the kid, then you can put it on the speeder and we’ll discuss terms,” Karga answered. The droid pilot on the land-speeder beeped pleasantly, like they weren’t in the middle of a potentially-massive shootout.

“How can we trust you?” the Mandalorian pressed.

“Because I’m the only hope you two have.” Karga raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Sari swallowed, not daring to grab her blaster just in case someone around them took it as a threat and chose to fire their own weapon, but then the Mandalorian nodded once, turning to the speeder.

“Come on, Sari,” he said just a little too loudly. “Say goodbye to the kid.”

“ _What_?” She balked at the instruction and he turned his helmet slightly in her direction before jerking his head towards the speeder.

“Trust me,” he said under his breath.

With a wary glance at Karga one last time, Sari closed the space between herself and the Mandalorian. The moment she was at his side, he grabbed her by the waist, hauling her and Grogu onto the speeder behind several of the barrels it already contained before firing his blaster at the other bounty hunters as they all pulled the triggers on their weapons.

“I think I liked the ‘whistling birds’ plan better!” she shouted over the sound of gunfire as he shoved Grogu into her arms and aimed his blaster at the droid.

“Drive!” he ordered and the droid shook its tiny head quickly, beeping frantically at them. He shoved the barrel of the gun against its central processing unit. “I said _drive_!”

Beeping in resignation, the droid began to drive the speeder forward and Sari ducked to avoid a stray laser blast as Grogu whimpered into her shoulder, trembling like a leaf against her.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him quietly and he peered up at her with large, wet eyes; he’d been crying. “It’s gonna be okay, Grogu.” She squeezed him close before grabbing her own blaster from her thigh holster. She sat up just enough to help the Mandalorian shoot down as many of the bounty hunters as she could, but there were far too many for both of them to take out at once; it felt like half the town was converging on them.

The speeder lurched to a halt as a laser blast landed squarely on the droid pilot, exploding it into metal shards, and Sari slid into the Mandalorian’s side from the force of the sudden stop. He grabbed her shoulder to steady her again before pulling his phase-pulse rifle from his back and disintegrating three of the bounty hunters approaching them.

“That's one impressive weapon,” Karga said as he began to approach the speeder, stopping only when the Mandalorian aimed the rifle at him next from between two barrels.

“Here’s what Sari and I are going to do,” he said, enunciating each word carefully. “We’re going to walk to our ship with the kid, and _you’re_ going to let it happen.”

“How about this?” Karga answered, his agreeable tone finally vanishing entirely as he gestured for several bounty hunters to approach the speeder. “ _W_ _e_ take the kid, and if either of you try to stop us, we kill you _both_ and we strip your bodies for parts.”

“Well, that’s just gross,” Sari muttered under her breath distractedly, preparing to aim her pistol at the encroaching bounty hunters, but then was yanked roughly off the speeder by the back of her shirt as she let out a startled shriek.

As the barrel of a blaster pressed to her temple and a large hand slid around her neck, she frantically threw Grogu in the Mandalorian’s direction before anyone else could get their hands on the baby. Thankfully, the Mandalorian caught Grogu in time, cradling him in one arm, but his helmet swiveled back and forth between Sari and Karga, unsure where to aim.

Her hands were still free even though her air supply was steadily being cut off by the fingers wrapped tightly around her neck, so she brought them up quickly, her own fingers trembling as she signed, _Take him and go._

The Mandalorian stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head in protest silently.

 _Get out of here_ , she signed again desperately, but he remained where he was, shifting his phase-pulse rifle to aim at the bounty hunter holding her hostage.

The other bounty hunters took the opportunity to pin him down, knocking the rifle out of his hand, and Karga shouted, “Watch it! Don’t hit the target!”

Sari swore internally, wondering just how hard she would have to kick the man holding her between the legs in order to make him let go and if she could even muster the strength to do so as dark spots danced across her vision. Grogu let out a plaintive wail from where he lay on the floor of the speeder, one tiny hand slipping out of his bundle of blankets to reach for Sari and the Mandalorian.

A laser blast cut past Sari’s ear, close enough that her skin was likely singed from the heat, and the man behind her crumpled instantly. She caught herself on the edge of the speeder, coughing and gasping for air as she massaged her throat before looking up at last at the source of the gunfire.

Several Mandalorians hovered in the sky with jetpacks, raining down laser blasts on the bounty hunters surrounding the speeder, and Sari gaped at them as they descended to the street level to continue holding off the bounty hunters. Many of them had at least one piece of beskar armor that gleamed in the dim evening light, but all of them wore helmets with identical T-shaped dark visors.

“My tribe,” the Mandalorian croaked an explanation as Sari climbed back onto the speeder to rejoin him, seemingly as stunned as she was by the reinforcements’ sudden arrival. “But how…?”

“Maybe don’t question it,” she rasped, grimacing at how hoarse she sounded - well, more hoarse than her usual voice was, anyway - as she scooped Grogu up and then grabbed the abandoned phase-pulse rifle to press it into the Mandalorian's hands. He glanced down at it and then back up at her, still shell-shocked, before another Mandalorian landed near the speeder. He was even taller than the Mandalorian beside Sari, his armor made of a rusted blue metal and a heavy-looking blaster in his hands.

“We’ll hold ‘em off, get going,” he called to them.

“You’re going to have to relocate the covert,” the Mandalorian pointed out, stumbling to his feet and holstering the phase-pulse rifle on his back.

“This is the Way,” the larger Mandalorian said simply.

Sari wondered what that meant, but the Mandalorian clearly understood as he dipped his head briefly in acknowledgment.

“This is the Way,” he echoed before glancing at Sari. “Let’s move.”

“Thank you,” Sari told the other Mandalorian fervently, hoping he conveyed the message to his fellow tribespeople as she scrambled off the speeder again, hurrying after the Mandalorian as he made his way through the fighting to the town gate.

Laser blasts flew over and around them, bouncing harmlessly off the Mandalorian’s beskar armor as he ushered Sari in front of him to shield her and Grogu, but a stray shot ricocheted off a building just as they made their way past the gate and grazed Sari’s side badly enough that her knees buckled underneath her reflexively.

“Shit,” she swore as pain seared across her abdomen, shoving Grogu into the Mandalorian’s arms again before she could accidentally drop him. “Take him and go, I’ve been hit.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he protested, nestling Grogu carefully against his chest to shield him from blaster fire even as he knelt down to inspect the wound. He hissed under his breath instinctively at the sight of the burned, bleeding hole in her side.

“Just get out of here,” she insisted as she glanced down at the wound herself, wincing at how bad it looked; even with bacta, she would take days to heal, and without it, perhaps weeks, if she even survived that long. “Take Grogu to my village, you’ll both be safe there if you tell my sister what happened.”

“Tell her yourself.” He hauled her unceremoniously to her feet and she tried to push him off desperately as Grogu whimpered from where he was tucked against the Mandalorian’s chest.

“Let _go_ , Mando, I’m dead weight! Leave me, just get Grogu to the ship!” She tried to swat the arm around her waist again, but it only tightened around her as he tugged her along. He had already half-carried, half-dragged her further than she had walked and she knew she would only slow him down further when her legs inevitably gave out from underneath her again.

“Stop fighting me and we can _all_ get to the ship,” he retorted and she glared dully at the side of his helmet as he focused on the path ahead to the Razor Crest.

As he dragged her up along the ramp of the ship, she had to press her face into his pauldron-covered shoulder as another jolt of pain raced up her spine and her vision went briefly dark, causing him to tighten his hold on her.

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

“Hold it, Mando.” Karga stepped out into view as the Mandalorian wheeled himself, Grogu, and Sari around to face him; Sari had been so dizzy with pain that she hadn’t even noticed Karga in the shadows of the ship. “I didn't want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code.” He lifted his blaster to aim it directly at the Mandalorian’s chest plate, right where Grogu was nestled.

Sari fumbled for the blaster on her thigh with the hand not clutching the Mandalorian’s shoulder, knowing he couldn’t grab any weapons when both of his hands were occupied, and fired off a laser blast into a nearby pipe to release the steam inside, making a silent note to fix it when she could stand again.

The Mandalorian seemed to read her mind, yanking her and Grogu back under the cover of the steam into the nearest sleeping berth and depositing them both on the cot. He turned just as Karga fired his blaster blindly into the ship and grabbed his own blaster, landing a shot squarely in Karga’s chest and sending the Guild agent toppling off the ramp to the ground below before slamming the side of his fist into the button to lift the ramp.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get us in the air,” he instructed Sari as he hurried past the sleeping berth to the ladder, climbing up into the bridge.

“Not a problem,” she wheezed after him, letting her head fall back against the thin pillow as black spots danced across her vision again. She doubted her legs would work even if she wanted them to.

Grogu sniffled as he clambered up beside her, finally having wriggled free of his blanket confines, and she managed a faint smile at him, reaching to smooth the fine white hair on his head down.

“Hi, kiddo,” she murmured. “You okay?”

He burbled worriedly back at her, his fingers reaching for her wounded side and running tentatively over the blackened flesh.

“No, hey, don’t worry about it,” she reassured him despite the flare of pain the brief touch brought, unable to help but feel the guilt and sorrow radiating off him in waves. “You’re safe, that’s what matters.”

The Razor Crest rumbled to life underneath them as it took off and Sari let her eyes fall shut, grimacing as the vibrations of the ship jostled her side. Even as she braced herself for more agony, though, it suddenly began to lessen, as if the pain was being drawn out of her entirely. She opened her eyes warily to see Grogu pressing his palm to her side, his eyes screwed shut tightly.

“Grogu, _stop_ ,” she insisted, pushing his hand away when she realized he was attempting to use more of his mysterious powers.

He opened his eyes, startled, and wobbled unsteadily in his weakened state even as he whined at her reproachfully and reached for her again.

“No, you’ll make yourself sick with how tired you are, you can’t just-” Sari broke off as she stared down at herself, stunned. The injury was nowhere near healed, and perhaps would still take a few weeks to disappear fully without bacta to speed the healing process along, but the burned, bleeding skin had melted into an angry red wound instead, as if a week had passed instead of a few seconds.

She wondered if Grogu would have healed her entirely if she hadn’t stopped him, but was relieved that she had when the baby slumped against her stomach, his eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion. Letting out a shaky breath, she hauled him up into her arms, burying her face into the top of his head.

“Thank you,” she said quietly and he let out a trembling sigh of relief and a little gurgle of contentment before falling asleep fully.

“Path’s set for Sorgan,” the Mandalorian said, a hint of panic Sari had never heard before in his modulated voice as he slid down the ladder and nearly stumbled over his own feet in his hurry to get back to the sleeping berth. “I don’t have any bacta, but-” He stopped in his tracks, staring at her as he took in just how much less awful she probably looked, and she shrugged helplessly back at him.

“Don’t ask me to explain it, but Grogu healed me a little.” She gestured to the baby sleeping against her shoulder as she attempted to push herself upright before giving up as her side flared again with pain, still not entirely healed. “He probably could’ve healed it all the way, but he was tired enough from whatever that doctor did to him. I didn’t want to push him.”

“Oh.” The Mandalorian sagged a little with relief against the doorway. “Well. It still needs to get cleaned out and wrapped up. I’ve got supplies for that, at least. Give him here, I’ll set him up in the room next to you.”

Sari passed Grogu over a little more carefully than she had the past few times she had given him up and the Mandalorian took him just as gingerly, careful not to wake him as he went to the sleeping berth next door and settled Grogu on the cot briefly. He grabbed the blanket Grogu had been swaddled in, fashioning it into a makeshift hammock and tying it to either side of the ceiling of the sleeping berth before scooping Grogu up to place him inside. Once he slid the door shut again, he went down the main corridor to rifle through a chest of supplies before returning to Sari with a small metal tin.

“First-aid kit,” he explained as he knelt by the cot, catching her raised eyebrow. “I’m going to pull your shirt up to get a better look at it.”

“How forward of you, at least buy me dinner first,” she deadpanned and he ignored her, reaching for the hem of her ruined shirt.

Despite her teasing, she let him pull it up to her ribcage so that he could examine her side better, resolutely not looking at him and focusing on a point over his shoulder instead as he dabbed at the wound with an antiseptic wipe. The cold liquid smelled like an infirmary and stung badly, but the injury wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been before, so she sent another silent thank-you to the child sleeping next door.

“How long until we get to Sorgan?” she asked just to make conversation, the silence emanating from the Mandalorian almost unbearably thick with tension as he worked.

“A day,” he answered tersely.

“I think I can hold out that long,” she joked.

“You’re not dying,” he retorted, his tone a little more sharp than he had probably intended.

“Relax, it was a joke,” Sari said, startled, and the Mandalorian’s hands stilled on her side as he let out a long, slow breath, his helmet angled down and away from her.

“You called yourself dead weight,” he said quietly after a moment, his voice low and frustrated. “And you tried to get me to leave you behind. _Twice_.”

" _That’s_ what’s got you so worked up?” she asked, her throat suddenly dry. “Fuck’s sake, Mando, I just wanted you to get Grogu to safety. It’s nothing personal.”

“Everything about this situation is personal,” he said firmly as his helmet lifted at last. Even through his visor, she could feel his eyes locking with hers. “You are not now nor have you ever been dead weight. I don’t want to hear you say it again or ask me to leave you behind one more time. We’re in this together - you, me, and the kid. Understand?” When she only stared at him, unable to make her vocal cords work, he insisted, “I need an answer, Sari.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat and brought her trembling hands up to sign, _I understand._

It was impossible to miss the relieved breath filtering through his voice modulator with how close he was to her. “Good.” He patted her shoulder briefly before focusing on wrapping a bandage around her midsection to cover her wound. “You can pull your shirt back down.” He climbed to his feet from where he’d been kneeling beside the cot, packing up the tin of supplies again as she tugged the hem of her shirt back down, still a little shaken. “Don’t move around too much. If you need something, give me a shout and I’ll bring it to you. I won’t be far away.”

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say aloud as he headed for the door, positive it wasn’t enough to convey the full extent of her gratitude, and he stopped just long enough to nod once in acknowledgment before sliding the door shut behind himself.

She could hear his footsteps ascend the ladder to the bridge and waited several moments before swinging her legs off the cot, testing her weight on her legs and pushing herself up once she was sure she could stand again. To her relief, she hadn’t bled on any of the sheets covering the cot, so she straightened them again before carefully opening the door and limping her way across to the sleeping berth Grogu occupied.

He opened his eyes blearily when the door slid open, blinking briefly to let his vision focus before a wide smile spread across his little green face when he registered Sari above him.

“Bwah,” he greeted her around a yawn.

“Hi, baby,” she crooned fondly, tapping his tiny nose with one finger. “Go back to sleep, I was just checking in on you.” His sleepy eyes drifted down to her side instinctively and she reassured him, “I’ll be okay, thanks to you. You did good.” He cooed back at her, clearly relieved.

“Do I hear you talking to the kid down there?” she heard the Mandalorian call from the bridge, a hint of warning in his voice so that she would know it was aimed at her. “I literally _just_ told you not to move around.”

“I’m _fine_ , Mando, quit fussing,” she answered, raising her voice slightly so that he could hear her.

“Does no one ever listen to me?” he sighed wearily to himself, clearly surrendering.

Sari rolled her eyes goodnaturedly before turning back to Grogu’s makeshift hammock to rock it gently. “Go back to sleep,” she repeated under her breath as the baby focused on her again. “You’re safe now. We all are.”

As he let out a contented sigh, closing his eyes and dozing off again, she leaned against the wall beside his hammock to watch him, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she continued to rock the hammock slowly with one hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have no idea how glad I am to finally get this chapter out of my drafts, I've been revising it over and over pretty much since I finished writing the initial draft a few days ago.
> 
> No scene changes or line breaks in this chapter, we die like men (also honestly, I didn't notice until I was about to post the chapter lol).
> 
> I also re-watched 1x03 to see how the fight scenes actually went and damn, Din really loves his flamethrowers, doesn't he? I toned it back a lot more specifically because I figured he'd be a little more careful about not accidentally barbecuing Sari if she was nearby (and tbh he really shouldn't be barbecuing people while holding Grogu so close to the fire, anyway *side-eyes Din's parenting choices*).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari gets to bring Grogu and the Mandalorian home to Sorgan.

“You shouldn’t be climbing ladders,” Din said with a heavy sigh without turning around when he heard footsteps coming up to the bridge.

“You nag worse than I do,” Sari retorted cheerfully and he bit his tongue to avoid instigating an argument. “Besides, we’re coming up on Sorgan soon and I haven’t seen it in years. Let me enjoy the view.” She leaned heavily on the back of his seat, even though there was a perfectly vacant co-pilot’s chair beside him.

“Kid still sleeping?” he asked instead of nudging her off his chair; she likely wouldn’t budge unless she actually wanted to.

“He is. He woke up for a bit while I was sleeping on the cot underneath him,” she admitted. “He climbed up on me and played with my hair for a while before he dozed off again on my shoulder. Whatever that doctor did to him really took a lot out of him.”

Din would never admit to her that he had seen them curled up together when he had returned downstairs to make sure she was actually resting and not wandering around the ship. The sight had been enough to make him pause in the doorway of the sleeping berth and look in at them for a long moment, his legs rooted to the floor beneath him as he tried to force himself to walk away, but couldn’t. The Child had been sprawled against Sari’s shoulder, his little fingers tangled in Sari’s loose, curly hair as it formed a dark halo around her head on the pillow, her expression smooth and peaceful.

Now her long hair was in its usual braid down her back when Din finally tilted his helmet up to examine her. The pinched exhaustion from the previous night seemed to have finally disappeared from her face; there was instead a light flush to her skin that suggested she’d probably showered recently. The dark circles under her eyes were finally gone as she gazed out at the approaching planet of Sorgan, the stars around them reflected in her hazel irises.

Catching him staring, she raised an eyebrow back down at him, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “Mando, how many times do I have to tell you I’m fine before you believe it?”

Din forced his eyes forward again, flipping a switch on the control panel and then off just as quickly in an attempt to pretend he was busy. Maybe if he was convincing enough, she wouldn’t keep distracting him with conversation. “I can’t help that you’ve lied to me about it before.”

He could sense more than see Sari’s eyes rolling behind him before her knuckles rapped lightly against the top of his helmet in retribution for the pithy remark.

“Talk about hypocrisy,” she answered dryly and he chose to ignore her.

The faint echo of her fingers on the beskar steel rang in his ears like distant wind chimes, not entirely unpleasant. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever touched his helmet other than himself.

“As flattered as I am that you keep fussing over me, I really am okay,” Sari added a little more sincerely as he kept his gaze fixed forward and deliberately away from her. “Did you sleep at all since we left Nevarro?”

“I slept a few hours,” he admitted.

“I didn’t hear you come down,” she accused.

“I stayed up here.”

When she remained silent, Din finally chanced a look back up at her, only to find her frowning down at him. “You could’ve slept downstairs. I was with Grogu, anyway.”

“It’s fine, I’ve slept in this chair plenty of times before,” he dismissed.

Although it was true, he truthfully didn’t know how to put into words the immediate aversion that had accompanied thinking about sleeping in the same bed where he had had to leave Sari the previous night to get the Razor Crest airborne, grazed so badly by a laser blast that he could still remember the nauseating sight of blackened and burned flesh above her hip as he had placed her on the cot.

“Well, next time, just come downstairs,” she relented, finally limping over to the co-pilot’s chair to collapse into it.

“Mweh?” Din glanced over his shoulder just in time to see two large green ears poking up into the hatch.

“Hey, you get back downstairs,” he said sharply, but the Child had already clambered his way into the bridge, toddling over to Sari eagerly with his arms outstretched.

“I don’t know for the life of me how you figured out ladders, but I’m frankly very impressed, given those stubby little legs,” she teased the Child with a grin as she scooped him up readily and settled him in her lap. He huffed at her indignantly for insulting his height and she tousled the fine white hair on top of his head to settle him again.

Din resolutely kept his eyes fixed straight ahead on the approaching green and blue planet so that the Child’s delighted laughter as Sari tickled him wouldn’t make something in his chest constrict painfully.

* * *

“Alright, we’re gonna go scout around to make sure the coast is clear before we take you to my village,” Sari told Grogu as she set him down carefully in the co-pilot’s seat once they had landed in a forested clearing. “No following us, okay? Don’t be a little shit and ignore us like you usually do.”

Grogu blinked at her innocently. “Eh?”

“I’m going to pretend that was you agreeing with me,” Sari said firmly, plucking the shift knob Grogu had been playing with out of his hands and placing it back on the shift stick to screw it back into place.

“Should you be swearing in front of him?” the Mandalorian asked as he headed for the ladder to slide down, sounding amused.

“He’s heard worse,” she answered over her shoulder with far more confidence than the claim deserved, glancing back one last time to make sure Grogu wouldn’t climb down from the co-pilot’s chair after her before heading for the ladder.

The Mandalorian was waiting for her at the bottom, hands hovering awkwardly in the air as if preparing to catch her if she slipped.

“I’m not made of porcelain,” she pointed out wryly as she made it to the floor successfully and he finally let his hands drop.

“You got shot yesterday, I’d cut myself some slack if I were you,” he reminded her as he pressed a button the wall to lower the ramp.

Sari snorted skeptically. “No, you wouldn’t.”

The Mandalorian paused thoughtfully. “You’re right, I wouldn’t, but my point stands.”

“Pot, kettle, black,” she muttered under her breath, but specifically loud enough for him to hear, and was rewarded with a snort of amusement from him.

As the ramp lowered, she prepared to take a step forward, but then noticed a small green figure near her ankle as she looked down, her jaw dropping in shock.

“ _How_?” she demanded as Grogu beamed up at her sweetly. “I didn’t even hear you come down!”

“Dank farrik, that kid’s fast,” the Mandalorian said in disbelief from her other side. “Maybe he didn’t understand you?”

“Oh, no, he knows exactly what he did.” Sari narrowed her eyes pointedly at Grogu, who tilted his head and lifted his arms expectantly.

The Mandalorian was faster than her, though, scooping Grogu up and tucking him under one arm before she could so much as reach for the child.

“You’re not even supposed to be walking, much less bending down and picking things up,” he explained when she gave him a mild glare. “Sure you won’t stay on the ship? The kid would probably stick around you.”

“I know these woods better than you,” she reminded him. “Besides, if I can talk to the bartender at the common house in the nearest town, word will get back to the village ahead of time so they know we’re coming. It’s about a day’s worth of travel from here, if I remember right.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “Which way to town from here?”

“Straight ahead,” she confirmed, taking off at a far slower pace than she would have liked.

Moving any faster would pull at the bandages wrapped tightly around her side and she knew the Mandalorian would probably have taken off at a brisk walk if he had been alone, but he dutifully stayed by her side without complaint, matching her slow pace. Grogu babbled happily to himself from underneath the Mandalorian’s arm, his little arms and legs swinging freely in the air.

Sari tilted her head up to take in the glimpses of bright blue sky amidst the foliage of tall trees above her; it had been so long since she had last been home that she had forgotten how vivid the colors around her were, and her fingers itched for some watercolor paints to capture it on paper. She would have to settle for the charcoals and her sketchbooks that she knew Omera would have saved for her at the village, having usually left her art supplies behind for fear of losing them during her travels.

As they approached the town’s common house, she noticed the Mandalorian set Grogu down out of the corner of her eye before slipping through the doorway first. Grogu followed him on shaky little legs as his head swiveled all around to take in the sights. Chuckling faintly at his insatiable curiosity, Sari entered last, waving at Alma; she had been the resident bartender since long before Sari had left home for the first time, and had even allowed Sari to work for her as a teenager to save up money for a ship.

“Well, look what the loth-cat dragged in,” she said as she set her dishrag down, eyebrows rising in surprise as a smile spread across her face. “Four _years_ , Sari, shame on you. Where have you been?”

“Here and there,” Sari answered vaguely - her usual response - as she leaned heavily on the bar under the guise of casual conversation to hide how much her side had protested the long walk. “I’m planning on heading home soon with my friend over there and the kid.”

Alma followed her gaze to the corner table where the Mandalorian had taken a seat. He scooped Grogu up into the empty chair beside him once the child had toddled close enough to the table before his helmet turned to face the two women at the bar.

Sari lifted her hands to sign to him, _Are either of you hungry?_

He glanced briefly at Grogu, who was still looking around in fascination, before signing back, _Some broth for him. Nothing for me. Get yourself something._

She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly back at him. “He worries a lot,” she explained to Alma, whose eyebrows had risen even higher on her forehead.

“Look at _you_ , starshine. I never thought I’d live to see the day you settled down, and with a Mandalorian, no less,” she teased as Sari flushed bright red and prayed he hadn’t overheard them.

“It’s not even remotely like that,” she insisted, “We just ran into each other at work last week and need to lay low for a bit. The kid’s not ours, we’re just watching him. I mainly came here because I wanted to pass the message on to anybody from the village stopping by that we’ll be there in a day or so.”

“Well, Caben ought to be by in a few hours to pick up some supplies,” Alma said thoughtfully. “I can let him know to tell your sister.”

“That would be great, thank you,” Sari said sincerely. “In the meantime, can I get some bone broth for the kid and myself?”

“Sure thing. I actually just took down a grinjer, so the pot’s fresh,” Alma agreed, already waving off the credits Sari had pulled out of her belt pouch. “Don’t be stupid, you’re the reason your village is even standing right now with those monthly payments. Caben told me all about it last time he was here.” Sari felt a twinge of guilt at the realization that she didn’t have any income to supply those payments anymore. “Anything for your Mandalorian friend?”

“No, nothing for him.” Alma eyed her skeptically. “Hey, he said it, not me.” Sari lifted her hands in surrender. “Believe me, I try to get him to eat and sleep when I can, but the man’s more stubborn than a bantha.”

Alma chuckled as she grabbed two bowls to fill them with hot bone broth from a steaming pot below the counter. “That’s nothing new. Men are just like that. Nothing you can do other than bully them into taking care of themselves now and then. Sure I can’t interest him in some spotchka, at least?”

Sari glanced over at the Mandalorian again to ask, but noticed him signing something else to her before she could lift her hands.

_Ask about the woman sitting across the room. Don’t stare._

She glanced instinctively across the room at the woman nursing a cup of spotchka, her dark hair cropped short on one side and hanging over her face on the other. She was tall and muscular and had two tattoos that Sari could see clearly: a band of stripes on one arm and a tiny Rebellion symbol under her left eye.

Mindful of the Mandalorian’s instructions, Sari tore her eyes away before the woman could notice. “No, I think he’s okay. Hey, who’s that in the corner? I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”

“Hm?” Alma glanced at the woman as she set the bowls on the counter in front of Sari. “Oh, she showed up a week ago. Couldn’t tell you what her business is here, you know there’s hardly any on this planet.”

“Believe me, I know.” Sari tried not to sound too bitter even as she managed a smile and grabbed the two bowls. “Thanks, Alma. Pass the message on to Caben for me when he comes in, would you? Our ship’s parked about a few hours’ walk north from here, we’ll probably start heading to the village from there tonight once we make some repairs.”

“Sure, but whenever you’re headed space-side again, stop in and at least say goodbye this time,” Alma called after her as she headed for the table and set one of the bowls down in front of Grogu.

“No idea who she is, she showed up a week ago,” she relayed the information to the Mandalorian quietly as she sank down into the empty seat opposite him. “Sure you won’t eat anything?”

“I’m fine,” he dismissed, his gaze fixed on the stranger’s table over Sari’s shoulder.

Grogu was too busy gulping down his soup happily to notice, making delighted noises to himself, and Sari picked up her own bowl to take a sip and appreciate the warm, savory broth sliding down her throat.

“She’s gone,” the Mandalorian said abruptly, climbing to his feet. “Watch the kid.”

“Hey, wait, she’s probably not a threat,” Sari tried to protest, but he vanished out the back door before she could stop him.

She glanced over her shoulder to find that the strange woman had indeed vanished, her cup of spotchka on the table the only sign that she had been there at all, but decided to let the Mandalorian handle it; if there was going to be a fight involved, she was in no condition to lend a hand. However, when she glanced back at Grogu’s seat, it was empty.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered when she glanced at the back door to see his little green ears vanishing from sight.

With a grimace, she abandoned her soup and pushed herself to her feet to head for the back door after Grogu, ignoring Alma calling after her, “Hey, are you hurt?”

She pushed her way out the back door only to find both the Mandalorian and the unknown woman holding each other at gunpoint while sprawled on the ground.

“Well, this is awkward,” she deadpanned, causing both of them to look up at her, startled, before dropping their gazes simultaneously to take in the sight of Grogu slurping bone broth loudly only feet away from them. “Hey, lady, you want some soup?” Sari added lightly to ease the tension, hoping she hadn’t been wrong about the stranger.

She cracked a grin, which put Sari’s nerves at ease. “Sure, I could go for some.”

“Drop the gun, Mando, she’s not an Imp,” Sari reassured him and he hesitated before reluctantly putting his blaster away and climbing to his feet.

“How do you know?” he demanded and she tapped a finger under her own left eye.

“Tattoo under her eye means she’s a rebel. I’m guessing a shock trooper from those stripes?” she addressed the woman, who got to her feet and dusted herself off.

“Ex-shock trooper,” she corrected, “But close. Cara Dune.”

“Sari, no last name,” Sari answered, taking her extended hand to shake it and ignoring the Mandalorian’s helmet tilting curiously in her direction. “Grab the kid and bring him inside if you’re not going to let me pick him up,” she told him, gesturing with her head for Cara to follow her back inside. “I owe Cara here some bone broth.”

“Should’ve said something if you were hurt, Sari,” Alma scolded as the group made their way back inside and Sari waved it off as she dropped back into her abandoned seat with a brief wince.

“I’m fine.”

The Mandalorian snorted quietly as he sank into the seat opposite her and she kicked his ankle under the table. To her dismay, he didn’t even flinch, leveling his expressionless stare back at her until she couldn’t hold his gaze anymore and turned back to Alma, whose arms were crossed over her chest disapprovingly.

“Can I get one more porringer of broth for our friend here, if you don’t mind?” She nodded to Cara, who was far more relaxed now as she settled into Grogu’s abandoned seat. The child in question clambered up onto Sari’s lap to sip his broth, his ears swiveling in every direction to pick up sounds from all around the room.

“Sure, but don’t think Caben’s not going to hear about this and report it back to Omera,” Alma warned as she headed back to the bar.

“Alma, _no_!” Sari didn’t mean for it to come out as a whine, but it made Grogu giggle around his bowl of soup as the entire room turned to stare at them. Sari turned pink with embarrassment, but thankfully, the rest of the patrons turned away again after only a moment.

“Hush, starshine,” Alma said sharply, coming back to place a fresh cup of steaming broth in front of Cara, who nodded a polite thanks even as her eyes crinkled in amusement at the two women bickering. “After four years of flitting around the galaxy without so much as a how-do-you-do, the least you can do is let your sister know what to expect when you get home.”

Sari narrowed her eyes at Alma, but surrendered with a sip of her now-cold soup as the bartender returned to her work.

“You a local?” Cara guessed.

“I grew up in a krill-farming village about a day’s journey from here,” Sari confirmed.

“What brings an ex-shock trooper to a planet like this?” the Mandalorian asked, his arms crossing as he leaned back in his chair to watch Cara.

She shrugged one shoulder, taking a sip of broth. “I saw most of my action mopping up after Endor, mostly ex-Imperial warlords. They wanted it fast and quiet. They’d send us in on the drop ships. No support, just us. And then when the Imps were gone, the politics started. We were peacekeepers, protecting delegates, suppressing riots. Not what I signed up for. So here I am in early retirement.”

Grogu drained his bowl and very nearly threw it aside before Sari caught it in time, placing it gingerly on the table and poking his belly in a silent reprimand until he looked up at her innocently.

“I’m onto you, you little brat,” she said under her breath, although she was already grinning despite herself, and he gurgled back up at her. She passed him the remainder of her own soup and he began to chug it down happily.

When she looked up again, Cara’s eyes were on her and Grogu, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before she turned to the Mandalorian again, whose gaze had also fallen to the child in Sari’s lap. “Look, I knew you were Guild, I just assumed you had a fob on me. That’s why I came at you so hard.”

“I figured as much,” the Mandalorian agreed dryly as he looked away from Grogu, who once again tried to throw his empty bowl before Sari rescued it from his tiny clutches.

“Stop throwing things,” she scolded and his large ears flattened against his skull, his eyes wide and guilty. Feeling a twinge of regret for scaring him, she rubbed his back to soothe him again until he relaxed.

“Well, this has been a real treat,” Cara said as she drained her cup, setting it on the table. “But unless you’re looking to go another round, one of us is going to have to move on, and I was here first.”

“Excuse you, I _live_ here,” Sari said, insulted.

“Haven’t lived here for four years, last I heard,” Cara said pleasantly before walking off.

“I regret buying her soup,” Sari grumbled to the Mandalorian. His responding chuckle was so low that she almost missed it, deep and rich even through the voice modulator.

“I guess this planet’s taken, then.”

* * *

“Are you going to listen to me if I tell you to take it easy?” Din complained when he slid down the ladder from the bridge of the Razor Crest to find Sari balancing precariously on a small stepping stool near the lowered ramp, unscrewing the broken pipe she had shot to give them cover from Greef Karga the previous day.

“ _You_ take it easy,” she sniped over her shoulder.

“So that’s a no, then,” he confirmed with a sigh. “What are you even doing? We were supposed to take off an hour ago.”

“Well, I’m the one who broke the pipe, so I have to fix it before it drives me crazy,” she explained as she wrenched the broken bit of metal free and dropped it to the ground. She was careful not to throw it anywhere close to the small green child near her feet, who was watching her work with wide, fascinated eyes.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Din said just to get a dig in at her and she rolled her eyes back at him.

“Don’t quit your day job to become a comedian now. Pass me the replacement pipe, please.” He obediently passed her the pipe and she fixed it into the empty slot, screwing it back into place.

“Still in a bad mood because of the shock trooper?” he guessed.

“Ex-shock trooper, as she was fond of reminding us,” Sari corrected him, “And no, not really. She was right, she _was_ here first. And the more wanted people there are on this planet, the less safe it is for any of us.” She stepped down from the stool, eyeing her work critically. “Check that it’s not loose?”

Din craned his neck to peer at the pipe she had just mended before reaching up to pull experimentally on it. To her credit, it didn’t even creak slightly. “It’s good,” he confirmed and a little of the tension finally drained from her shoulders as she managed a tiny smile back at him.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered, feeling a twinge of guilt despite himself. “I know you wanted to see your family.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about. Or, well, littler things, anyway.”

Simultaneously, they dropped their gazes down to the Child, who gurgled at them from where he was sitting on the floor of the ship before going back to banging two wrenches from the toolbox together.

“Excuse me?” a voice called from the trees and Din spun around, his hand instinctively going to the blaster at his hip. “Excuse me, you’re a Mandalorian, right? Is Sari with you?” The man who had spoken hung back by the tree line in the distance beside another man, a cargo sled loaded with supplies behind him.

“She is, indeed,” Sari called back, sounding suddenly delighted as she nudged her way past Din. “Caben, is that you? I see you hiding back there behind him, Stoke!”

Caben relaxed a little as he grinned broadly. “It’s good to see you,” he said as he closed the gap between them and Sari reached out to clasp his hand tightly.

“You, too. I’d hug you, but-”

“Yeah, you’re hurt, Alma told on you,” Caben told her, grinning, and Sari lifted her gaze skyward.

“Has anybody told Alma that snitches get stitches?” she asked no one in particular.

“You think that’s ever stopped her?” Stoke said dryly from behind Caben, reaching to squeeze Sari’s hand in a greeting next.

“I know what she probably told you, but we can’t stay,” Sari explained apologetically. “We’re actually taking off soon.”

“No, wait, you can’t,” Stoke blurted out suddenly and Sari glanced at him, alarmed by the urgency in his voice.

“Why not?”

“Raiders. They’ve been attacking our village for months now.” He glanced at Din next. “We were hoping between the two of you, you’d know what to do to get rid of them.”

“Sorry, can’t help you,” Din said instinctively, ignoring the startled look Sari sent him. He turned his back on them, grabbing Sari’s abandoned tools from the floor to begin packing them again.

“You’re a Mandalorian, aren’t you?” Caben asked tentatively behind him.

“We have money,” Stoke added.

“What, you think I’m some kind of mercenary?” Din threw over his shoulder.

“We _are_ mercenaries,” Sari reminded him, although there was no humor in her voice when he glanced back at her. She was frowning deeply now, clearly already rethinking their decision to leave. “Never mind the money,” she told the other two men. “Tell me about the raiders.”

“They’re all Klatooinians. They take everything each week,” Stoke explained, “The krill harvests, the grain, every coin they find. The whole village chipped in when we found out you were here and this was all we could get together.” He held up a tiny coin purse, but Sari waved the offered payment away.

“ _Sari_ ,” Din said sharply and she ignored him.

“Normally our harvests would be enough to keep afloat, but the only reason we’ve been surviving these days are those credits you’ve been transferring over every month,” Caben added and Sari grimaced.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen again for a while, probably. No more steady income as of yesterday.” She scrubbed a hand over her face as she debated what to do, but then her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat as she sighed. “I want to help - you know I do - but I’m barely in any shape to fight raiders. Besides, like I said, we can’t stay.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at the Child, who had clearly sensed her distress and was already toddling towards her.

“You adopted a mutant porg?” Caben asked, surprised, as she bent down to scoop the Child up before Din could stop her.

“Ha, that’s what I thought he was at first, too,” she joked, settling the Child on her good hip with such ease that Din had to look away briefly. “No, I have no idea what he is, but he needs to be someplace safe, and if there are raiders, the village isn’t a good place for him.”

Even as she said it, Din could see the longing written all over her face as she glanced down at the Child, managing a tiny, resigned smile at him when he gurgled and reached up to pat her cheek fondly.

“It could be if you two make it safe,” Stoke tried again as he glanced hopefully once more at Din, who hesitated as an idea occurred to him.

“Give me the money.” Startled, Stoke held the small coin purse out and Din took it, tucking it into his belt. “Help them load our things onto the sled,” he told Sari, who had begun to smile slowly. “I’m going to get our ex-shock trooper friend on board.”

Beaming widely now, she signed a silent _thank you_ to him with one hand, clutching the Child close with the other, and he turned away to head back in the direction of the town they had visited earlier before his chest could constrict any tighter.

* * *

“So we’re basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?” Cara summarized dryly as she settled in between two boxes on the cargo sled.

“I was going to do it for free,” Sari offered helpfully as she stretched her legs out across the width of the sled, settling Grogu between them and fencing him in with her calves. He burbled defiantly up at her and promptly tried to crawl out over her knee.

“Oh, no, you don’t, you little womp-rat.” The Mandalorian reached over to nudge Grogu back down between Sari’s knees. “Stay there and listen to Sari.” He ignored the baby’s scowl aimed at him, returning his attention to Cara as he answered her question, “They’re quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked, that’s a pretty square deal for somebody in your position.”

Cara cracked a wry smile. “You’re not wrong,” she conceded.

The Mandalorian shrugged one shoulder and added, “Worst case scenario, you tune up your blaster. Best case, we’re a deterrent. I can’t imagine there’s anything living in these trees that an ex-shock trooper couldn’t handle.”

As he leaned back, tilting his helmet up to the sky, Sari watched Grogu imitate him, leaning back against her knee and gurgling up at the stars absently until his large eyes drifted shut and he dozed off.

After several minutes passed, Cara must have guessed that the Mandalorian had fallen asleep as she finally turned to Sari. “So you convinced him to stay, huh?”

“Frankly, I was the only one on board to help at first,” she admitted honestly. “I don’t know what changed his mind.”

“Really.” Cara didn’t look convinced. “Because it seems to me like _you_ did.”

Sari glanced up at the Mandalorian beside her suspiciously, but if he was listening, he didn’t react to the bold claim. If anything, he really did seem to be asleep, unlike that night on Arvala-7 when he had ignored her by pretending to doze off. His breathing was slow and even under the helmet, and if Sari listened closely, she could hear the faintest of snores; he really must have been exhausted.

Finally convinced that he was well and truly asleep, she turned back to Cara. “Trust me, I didn’t do anything to convince him. One minute, he was adamant about leaving, and the next, he was taking the money and heading off to get you.”

“Hmm.” Cara glanced between the two of them again before shrugging one shoulder as she settled down to go to sleep as well. “If you say so. But if you ask me, he’s only doing this because that village is your home.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sari admitted, although her stomach flipped a little at the thought. She glanced back up at the Mandalorian once more to double-check that he really was asleep, relieved when he didn't move. “We don’t know each other that well. We’re only even traveling together because of Grogu.” She nodded to the sleeping child nestled within the crook of her knee.

“Just telling you what it looks like to me,” Cara pointed out around a yawn, closing her eyes. “See you in the morning, Sari.”

“‘Night, Cara,” Sari answered, distracted by the sight of the stars above them reflecting off the Mandalorian's darkened visor. When she looked back down again, Cara was fast asleep as well.

Grogu snuffled in his sleep, rolling over onto his side against Sari’s leg, but continued to slumber once he was settled in his new position. She cracked a smile, reaching out to smooth a finger over one of his large, pointy ears before settling in to get some rest herself. With how cramped it was on the sled, she had no choice but to lean carefully against the Mandalorian’s shoulder. His pauldron was cold against her cheek as she felt him stir slightly beside her, awakened by the sudden shift in weight against his side.

“Sari? What is it?” He sounded groggy; he had been so alert every other time he had woken up around her that she had often suspected he had never been asleep, so hearing the foreign huskiness in his voice this time made her smile despite herself into his shoulder. “Something funny?” he accused sleepily, but there seemed to be no heat behind it.

“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep,” she told him.

To her surprise, he obediently relaxed again, one arm coming up to slide loosely around her shoulders. His arm was heavy and warm around her, leaving her with no choice but to fully commit to curling into his side. Within seconds, he was snoring quietly again, the sound just barely filtering through the modulator in his helmet.

It didn’t take long for Sari to doze off against him as well once she had shut her eyes, all the while wondering if he really had agreed to help the village because of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh? Is this the first of many sleeping-with-each-other-while-not-necessarily-spicy scenes I have planned?
> 
> (Yes. The answer is yes. Because I'm a nerd for fluff.)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm looking forward to continuing the Sorgan arc for a couple more chapters! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari's popular with kids and Din has FEELINGS about it.

“Sari’s home! It’s Sari!”

The distant childish screeches of delight had Din opening his eyes quickly, startled, and he very nearly jolted upright to find the source of the noise before he belatedly remembered the head nestled against his shoulder. Before he could debate how to untangle himself from Sari without waking her, she resolved the problem for him as she stirred, tilting her head just enough to mash her nose into his pauldron in a way that he doubted was comfortable.

“Morning,” she mumbled and something about the way her voice sounded while she was half-asleep and sprawled out next to him - lower than usual, with an extra rasp that shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was - made him swallow slightly.

“I think your fan club’s here,” he told her once he had control of his voice again and she squinted up at him sleepily, her eyes just barely open enough for him to see a few specks of gold against the green backdrop of her irises in the early morning light.

“My what?” She looked around as the cargo sled pulled to a halt before a wide smile spread across her face as she took in the fields of krill ponds in front of them, a tiny village of small huts beyond the fields. “Oh, hey, we’re home.” The ease with which she’d said it made his throat constrict again.

“We’re here?” Cara asked around a yawn, having been startled awake by the sled stopping. A group of children rushed up to the edge of the sled where the Child was already peering out at them and burbling curiously. They all crowded around him eagerly, equally as fascinated with him as he seemed to be with them.

“Oh, you meant _his_ fan club,” Sari deadpanned with a wry smile back up at Din before carefully untangling herself from his side to climb to her feet.

Belatedly, he realized his arm had been around her shoulders the entire night and was glad for the helmet hiding his face as he removed his arm quickly and ignored the knowing smirk Cara aimed his way; the less intimations she made about them, the better.

“Hi, kids!” Sari hopped down with a barely-suppressed wince, opening her arms as a little girl with brown curly hair ran to her first.

“I missed you _so much_ , Aunt Sari,” she enthused, throwing her arms around Sari’s waist tightly.

“Oh, I missed you, too, Winta,” Sari crooned, burying her face into her niece’s hair. “You’ve gotten so _tall_!”

“I grew three inches last summer!” another girl called, standing on her toes so that Sari could see her over the crowd.

“I lost a baby tooth!” a boy added eagerly, hopping up and down.

“I learned to do a cartwheel!”

“I’m helping Mama gather the krill harvest every day!”

“Wow.” Sari made a show of looking impressed as she stepped back from Winta, hands on her hips. “Well, you guys are just gonna have to catch me up on everything I missed, then. Go find your mom and ask her to set up the barns for all four of us, please, Winta,” she instructed her niece, who ran off eagerly to fetch her mother. “The rest of you likely have chores you’re avoiding,” she added to the crowd of children, who simultaneously whined in protest. “That’s right, get going. I’ll play with you all later.” She shooed them away, smiling fondly after them as they ran back to their waiting parents.

“You never told me you were famous,” Din couldn’t resist saying innocently as he leaned one elbow over the edge of the sled and Sari rolled her eyes back at him goodnaturedly.

“Only with the kids. Get down from there and bring Grogu with you before he succumbs to the masses.”

Din followed her amused gaze to where the Child was waving his tiny hands at the wide-eyed villagers like a benevolent king greeting his subjects. He shook his head briefly before scooping the Child up and carrying him down from the sled. Cara joined him a moment later, her pack slung over her shoulder.

“Omera’s not going to be happy you went and got yourself hurt,” Caben pointed out to Sari as he climbed out of the driver’s seat of the cargo sled, Stoke stepping out on the other side.

“Don’t remind me, I’m still trying to work up the courage to actually face her,” Sari said with a sigh, rubbing her eyes to rid herself of the last of her grogginess.

“How bad is it, anyway?” Caben asked curiously.

“Not bad,” she lied and Din rolled his eyes under his helmet. Of _course_ she was still trying to downplay it.

“Laser blast grazed her side badly two days ago,” he told Caben instead and ignored the scowl Sari aimed his way even as Caben winced in sympathy.

“Snitches get stitches, Mando,” she hissed under her breath as Cara grabbed her shoulder to lead her away, grinning at the indignant fury on the other woman’s face.

Din followed them once he grabbed his own pack with his free hand, unable to help a smirk under his helmet where no one could see, and the Child giggled from under his other arm, swinging his legs and arms to entertain himself.

If Sari hadn’t told Din herself that she had been adopted, he would have guessed that the woman waiting in the doorway of the barn was her sister by birth. They both had the same long, dark hair and olive-toned skin, but where Sari’s eyes were a vivid hazel, pale against her skin, Omera’s eyes were a deep brown with small crow’s feet at the corners as she smiled broadly at the sight of them.

“Welcome,” she greeted Din and Cara politely before tugging Sari into a hug, squeezing her close. Sari grimaced briefly as it agitated her injury, but clutched her sister back just as tightly, burying her face into Omera’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you home,” Omera told her sincerely as she pulled back before adding a little more sharply, “Not quite so good to have you come home with a hole in your side, though.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Sari insisted, daring Din to argue with a brief glare over her shoulder and he shrugged one shoulder silently in surrender; he’d sold her out enough as it was. “I’d rather we just get everybody settled in and then you can fuss over me all you want.”

“Deal.” Omera relaxed slightly again. “I’ve set up the barn next door as well if you’d like to put your things down,” she added to Cara.

“Guess I’ll go ahead and do that,” Cara agreed, setting off for the other barn, and Sari tilted her head briefly to let Din know to follow her inside. The Child squirmed in his grasp as he stepped into the barn after Sari, setting his pack down by the doorway.

“I hope this is comfortable for you,” Omera offered and it took him a moment to realize she was addressing him. “I’m sorry that all we have is the barn. Sari usually stays here every time she comes home, too.”

“This will do fine,” Din reassured her; it was honestly more spacious than he had expected, with a large cot against the far wall, a table, and even a small crib set up for the Child to sleep in. He took the opportunity to set the Child down in it, watching him shake the wooden bars experimentally with his little fists to see if he could break out easily before slumping against the small mattress in defeat.

“Bad and naughty children get sent to baby jail for their sins,” Sari deadpanned to the Child as she took a seat on the edge of the cot and he blew a sulky raspberry back at her.

Omera ignored them, clearly far too used to her sister’s arid sense of humor as she added to Din, “I set some blankets in the corner for you, too.”

“Thank you,” he said, unsure how to react to the warmth in her voice. “That’s very kind.”

A shuffling noise by the doorway had him spinning around instinctively, grabbing for the blaster on his belt, but he just barely stopped himself from aiming it when he recognized Winta hiding just behind the door frame instead of an enemy, a weathered backpack clutched in her small hands.

“It’s okay, Mando,” Sari reassured him and he glanced over his shoulder in time to catch her fond smile aimed at the girl in the doorway. “Come on in, Winta. Are those the sketchbooks and charcoals I left here?”

Winta nodded nervously, her eyes fixed on Din warily as she inched into the barn, and he belatedly remembered to take several steps back and give her room to approach Sari and hand the bag over.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Sari said affectionately, sliding one arm around Winta’s shoulders to squeeze her close before glancing over her head at Din. “She’s shy around strangers,” she explained before ducking her head back down to murmur something into Winta’s hair quietly enough that he couldn’t catch it.

The little girl giggled softly at whatever Sari had said before ducking out of her embrace to huddle against Omera’s side, hiding her face in the folds of her mother’s dress and peeking at the Child in the corner curiously.

“Come on, Winta, let’s give our guests some room,” Omera told her softly, ushering her out of the barn. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Sari, you’ll hear from me later,” she added warningly over her shoulder.

“Love you, too, sis,” Sari called back distractedly, too busy rummaging through the backpack Winta had brought her.

“You draw?” Din asked once Omera and Winta were gone.

“I used to. I never brought my art stuff with me, no room to carry them on my old ship. So Omera kept them safe at her house.” Sari pulled out a set of charcoals to inspect them before nodding to herself and setting them back inside the backpack.

“What did you tell her?” She glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Your niece,” he clarified.

“Oh.” She grinned cheekily. “I told her you’re a very scary monster who eats misbehaving children for breakfast.”

“Children upset my stomach that early in the morning,” Din answered dryly, deliberately ignoring how her responding laugh made something in his chest twist painfully. “There’s only one bed,” he realized belatedly once he glanced around the hut again.

“Yeah, you’re taking it,” Sari answered absently, her attention back on her art supplies.

“No, that’s not happening,” he insisted. “You’re-”

“If you finish that sentence with some variant of ‘injured and deserve it more,’ you’re getting a kick between the legs where no amount of beskar steel can protect you,” she warned as she fished out a sketchbook and he was glad his helmet hid his face as it burned with mortification at the thought. “Either you take the bed or we share, and I’m not opposed to the latter.”

“You’re not?” He blinked, taken aback.

“What? It’s pretty much what we did last night,” she pointed out. She still hadn’t looked up at him, focusing on opening her sketchbook to a new page and grabbing a piece of charcoal. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Oh.” He watched her place the tip of the charcoal against the page of the sketchbook balanced on her knee. “I guess that’s settled, then.”

“Yep.” She finally glanced up, giving him a faint smile. “You’ll like it here. It’s quiet, all talk of raiders aside. It’ll be a nice change of pace for everybody.” She let her eyes fall on the Child in his crib, who was watching them with large, curious eyes, before she began to sketch, her charcoal scratching over the paper.

As she continued to draw, Din made his way to the window to glance out at the village and look it over. A few of the passing villagers caught sight of him in the window and eyed him warily as they passed the barn, but otherwise, the place was small and nondescript. Sari was likely right; once the raiders were gone, a few weeks or longer in the village would be good for all of them after everything that had happened on Nevarro.

* * *

“What do you think?” Sari asked as she turned her sketchbook to face Grogu and the baby wrinkled his nose a little as he took in the image of himself etched in charcoal through the bars of his crib. “I don’t know if you’ve ever looked in a mirror, kid, but this is as close as it’s going to get,” she pointed out and he stuck his little tongue out at her.

“Bleh.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Sari sighed goodnaturedly as she closed and tucked her sketchbook away again.

“It’s good,” the Mandalorian offered and she started a little; she hadn’t expected him to have seen her sketch from where he’d been sitting at the table by the window. He had been settled there for the past hour as she’d worked on her drawing, cleaning the barrel of his phase-pulse rifle with a cloth from his pack. “He’s just being a brat, it does look like him.”

“Thank you,” she said, relieved. “Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all this time.”

“You’ve got charcoal on your forehead,” he pointed out.

“What?” She rubbed at her forehead instinctively and he let out a tinny snort of amusement.

“You just made it worse.”

“Hang on, let me just-” She dragged her sleeve over her charcoal-smudged fingers before reaching up to rub at her forehead again, but then the Mandalorian climbed to his feet and crossed the room in one long stride to swipe his gloved thumb quickly over a spot near her temple that she had missed.

“There.”

“Oh.” She turned faintly pink as she purposely avoided thinking about how warm his hand had been even through the glove. “Thanks.”

He nodded once briefly before returning to the table to pick up the phase-pulse rifle again, leaning it against the inside of the doorway to the barn.

“Knock, knock.” Omera peered in, two plates of food in her hands.

“Come in,” the Mandalorian said awkwardly and Sari rolled her eyes as she climbed off the cot to take the plates.

“Thanks, Omera,” she added more sincerely to make up for the Mandalorian’s apparent lack of social skills.

“I didn’t know what the baby would eat,” Omera said, glancing over her shoulder at Grogu, who had perked up with interest at the sight of the plates.

“Grogu can eat off my plate, he doesn’t need much,” Sari reassured her. “I think he’s eaten just about everything I’ve given him, anyway.”

“Can I feed him?” Winta peeked around Omera’s skirt, but to Sari’s surprise, she was addressing the Mandalorian, who had frozen with his helmet fixed on her.

“Uh, sure,” he agreed stiffly.

Sari passed Winta a small piece of bread. “Go ahead,” she encouraged the girl more gently.

Winta hurried over to the crib and held the piece of bread up to Grogu, who stood on the mattress to reach for the piece with eager little hands and stuff it in his mouth. As Sari passed Winta another chunk of bread and watched her feed the child, she held out the plate in her other hand to the Mandalorian, who glanced down at it before taking it reluctantly.

“Cara ate with everyone else already, but she suggested you might need the rest,” Omera told Sari before adding to the Mandalorian, “And she also mentioned you probably wouldn’t eat in front of anyone else, so I thought I’d bring you both some plates."

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” the Mandalorian said with a grateful incline of his head.

“Can I play with him?” Winta asked, clearly addressing the Mandalorian again.

He stared back at her for a moment before nodding briefly. “Sure.”

Sari helped Winta scoop Grogu out of the crib, setting him down on the floor, and Winta bounced a little on her feet excitedly before hurrying out the door. “Come on!” she called and Grogu squeaked in delight, toddling after her.

“I don’t think-” the Mandalorian said, a sudden hint of worry in his voice that his modulator couldn’t quite filter out as he stepped forward, but Sari pressed her free hand against his chest plate to stop him from storming past her.

“They’ll be fine. I’m gonna go outside and watch them while I eat, anyway, so you can eat in here,” she reassured him and his helmet lowered to face her.

“I don’t-” he tried again.

“They’ll be _fine_ , Mando,” she insisted, cutting him off. “You can watch from the window if you’re so worried, but I’ll be with them.”

He stared at her for a moment before taking a step back again in surrender. “Fine.”

“Great, because you and I need to catch up,” Omera said, looping her free arm around Sari’s to usher her out of the barn and out to where Winta and the neighboring children had gathered around Grogu.

Sari lowered herself to take a seat on the ground nearby with a small wince, glancing back at the barn briefly. The Mandalorian had settled in by the window again with his plate of food, his helmet angled in her direction as he lifted his hands and signed, _Don’t look._

She nodded in acknowledgment before obediently turning away again, watching as Grogu wobbled around in an attempt to catch as many of the blue krill the children had thrown on the ground in front of him as he could.

“So. You’re traveling with a Mandalorian and a baby now.” Omera sat down beside Sari, nudging the plate in her hands pointedly, and Sari rolled her eyes before starting to eat.

“It’s a very recent development,” she said around a mouthful of bread.

“As recent as when you got that laser burn on your side?” Omera pressed and Sari shook her head as she swallowed her food.

“About a week earlier when I met them, but close enough.”

Omera sighed wearily. “Sari, you know I love you, but you really need to just settle down somewhere. You haven’t stayed in one spot for more than a few months since you turned eighteen.”

“Here we go.” Sari gave her a wry grin. “Having this conversation a little early this time, aren’t we? You usually wait a couple weeks.”

“And you’re usually gone a lot less longer than four years,” Omera reminded her, but there was no heat behind her words. “I know you’re not happy here-”

“I _am_ happy,” Sari interrupted her. “Don’t get me wrong, I love visiting and getting to see you, Winta, and the rest of the village. I just can’t stay forever. It’s not where I belong.”

“And where _do_ you belong?” Sari ignored the question, focusing on popping an orange slice into her mouth instead and letting the sweet, tangy flavor explode on her tongue. Omera knew her well; they had grown up eating the fruit each morning for breakfast and it never failed to make Sari think of home every time she tasted it. “Because I don’t think you know even after all this time flying around the galaxy.”

“I know I can’t spend the rest of my life farming krill,” she pointed out dryly. “Or bartending like Alma in a town’s common house. I’m not knocking what all of you do, but it’s not for me.”

“So bounty hunting’s the only good way for you to earn a living?” Omera threw her hands in the air briefly to express her frustration. “I’m glad you can take care of yourself out there, and I appreciate that you taught me to shoot last time you came home, too, but is it so wrong for me to want to not worry about if I’ll ever see you again? What if that laser blast had killed you?”

Sari swallowed the last of her food as she recalled how bad her injury had been only two days earlier. “Yeah, I guess that’s a fair concern,” she mumbled, unable to meet her sister’s eyes; if Grogu hadn’t been there when he had, then Omera’s fear would have likely been a reality.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you weren’t alone,” Omera added. “There really wasn’t one single person out there with you all this time until you met the Mandalorian and Grogu?”

“There was someone, but not anymore,” Sari said shortly as her throat grew tight at the memory of Kal. When Omera’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, she let out a slow exhale, elaborating, “His name was Kal, we met around five years back and it kind of became an off-and-on-again thing until a couple days ago. Long story short, there are a lot of Guild members going after Grogu right now. The Empire wants him for some reason. Mando and I got him out and Kal tried to stop us, so I broke it off with him.”

“Just like that?” Omera raised an eyebrow.

Sari shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, he was a good friend and I liked him, but I’d rather not keep dating a guy who’d turn a baby over to Imps. I’m not even lying when I say I’m not that sad about it being over relationship-wise. I only regret losing him as a friend.”

“Well, as far as reasons for break-ups go, it’s not terrible,” Omera conceded after a moment and Sari peeked up at her sister to see her finally cracking a tiny, sad smile. “I just want to see you happy, that’s all.”

“I’m happy now that I’m here,” Sari reassured her, nudging their shoulders together. “And we’ll take care of those raiders, I promise.”

“You mean your friends will because _you_ will be staying back at the village and resting,” Omera reminded her, her eyes narrowing in warning.

“Yeah, of course,” Sari lied blatantly. “I won’t get involved at all. Nope, not me.”

Rolling her eyes, Omera tugged on the end of Sari’s braid in a silent reprimand before climbing to her feet. “Will you be alright to watch the children while I check in on your Mandalorian friend?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sari mock-saluted her, passing her the empty plate. “Don’t walk in on him without his helmet,” she added as she climbed to her feet, hoping the Mandalorian caught the quick signed warning she tossed over her shoulder as she headed over to the group of children. “Alright, kids, who wants to see a magic trick?” she called and a dozen hands shot into the air eagerly as a chorus of “Me! Me! I do!” echoed around her.

Grinning, she scooped Grogu up when he toddled over to her, settling him on her shoulders as she rolled her sleeves up and set to work entertaining the kids.

* * *

Thanks to Sari’s warning that Omera was coming back, Din had slid his helmet back on by the time she made her way into the barn again.

“Thank you for the meal,” he told her sincerely as he passed her the plate. “Everything was nice.”

“Anytime.”

She glanced out the window and he followed her gaze to the main village square where Sari had a large group of children gathered around her, the Child perched on her shoulders as she waved her hands around animatedly and made a pebble disappear from between her fingers.

It was a simple sleight-of-hand trick, he knew - one he had pulled plenty of times himself in far less innocent circumstances - but all of the children gasped as if it was the most magical thing they had ever seen in their short lives before swarming around Sari to demand how she had done it. Cara Dune had joined them, too, watching Sari and the children appraisingly as she leaned on a nearby building with her arms crossed.

“She likes children better than adults,” Omera said, tearing Din’s eyes away from Sari’s blinding smile in the face of the children’s delight. “Always has. This happens every time she comes home to visit, the little ones here all love her.”

“I can tell. She’s good with him.” He nodded to the Child, who was clutching the top of Sari’s head and squealing with laughter as she swayed dangerously sideways on purpose before righting herself again. “Your sister’s got a kind heart.”

“Too kind for her line of work, I think,” Omera said, a hint of wry sadness in her voice.

“Probably,” he agreed.

Sensing their mutual gaze on her, Sari glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow when she caught his eye.

 _What are you two talking about in there?_ she signed.

He lifted his hands to sign back to her, _We’re making fun of you._

She wrinkled her nose, the sight oddly endearing, before tilting her left hand palm-up and then sliding her right middle finger across the length of her left palm.

_Rude._

Clearly having understood both of them, Cara laughed and said something that Din couldn’t quite hear to Sari, who rolled her eyes back at the ex-shock trooper even as her lips curved up into a smile of her own.

“You sign with Sari?” Omera asked, surprised.

“It helps when we don’t want to be overheard or if we’re too far away to hear each other,” Din explained. “And she’s taught the kid some baby signs.” When he glanced back at Sari, she had returned her attention to the children surrounding her; she was now performing another magic trick for them by choosing a child at random and pretending to pull a small blue krill out from behind their ear, much to the juvenile crowd’s amazement.

“I’m sorry, I just haven’t seen her sign with anyone other than myself or my parents before,” Omera admitted. “She told you she wasn’t born here?” She waited for him to nod before explaining, “She didn’t speak for years after we took her in. She must have been around three years old at the time and I was seven. Our parents had to teach her to sign so she could communicate with us. We all just assumed she was mute for years.”

“What got her talking?” Din asked, interest piqued now.

Omera shrugged. “I guess she warmed up to us. She just started talking one morning when she was a teenager and hasn’t stopped since.” He couldn’t quite stifle a snort of amusement at that. “She still signs every now and then when she’s nervous or overwhelmed and her voice fails her, but it’s not as often these days.”

Din suddenly recalled how Sari had stared at him silently when he had insisted she promise not to call herself dead weight again, only responding that she had understood in sign language.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” He hoped Omera didn’t hear how hoarse his voice suddenly was.

“Hey.” Cara appeared in the doorway. “Sari thinks we ought to check the nearby woods for those raiders, see if we can find where they’re camped. She also said she’s coming with us and that she’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer,” she added dryly.

“Of course she did,” Din sighed, wondering what he had done to be cursed with stubborn companions who absolutely refused to listen to him.

“In my defense, I do know these woods like the back of my hand,” Sari offered as she appeared behind Cara, slipping past her to deposit the Child in his crib. He yawned, clearly exhausted from playing with the village children, and promptly fell asleep the moment his little green head hit the crib’s mattress.

“So you literally lied to my face ten minutes ago when you said you’d let them handle it,” Omera pointed out and Sari shrugged unrepentantly.

“Pretty much, yeah. Let’s go before she kills me,” she said cheerfully to Cara and Din as she grabbed her blaster from her pack by the doorway and ducked back out the door.

“We’ll watch her back,” Cara reassured Omera, seeing the weary dismay on the other woman’s face and managing a small smile back at her, as Din moved to the crib to make sure the Child was sound asleep.

When he nudged the Child gingerly with one knuckle, the kid made a bleary noise of protest back up at him before rolling over onto his stomach and dozing off again. Despite Din's best efforts not to let it affect him, the sight was enough to make something in his chest tighten painfully.

“It’s only recon,” he added over his shoulder to Omera in the hopes of putting her at ease; it was clear how much her younger sister worried her, especially after having been away as long as she had been. “We won’t engage before we know just how many of them we’re dealing with.”

She didn’t seem convinced as he followed Cara out of the barn and up to the edge of the tree line where Sari was waiting for them.

“I asked a few people around town,” Cara explained once the three of them were together. “They say they’ve seen maybe fifteen or twenty raiders come through each week.”

Sari grimaced as she leaned on a nearby tree trunk. “I don’t like those odds.”

“Between the three of us, it’s not impossible,” Din pointed out, tapping the side of his visor to switch it to thermal mode and scanning the ground for footprints. “They came through here on foot recently.” Cara and Sari fell into step behind him as he followed the tracks through the forest.

“Something big cut through the trees up there,” Sari noted, jerking her chin up when Din glanced over his shoulder at her. He followed her gaze up, registering the broken tree branches above them as he returned his visor to normal vision.

“And I think I see what did it,” Cara said grimly and they both glanced down to see what she was staring at - a massive footprint that Din unfortunately recognized.

“AT-ST,” he said aloud to confirm it.

“What’s an Imperial Walker doing on Sorgan?” Sari demanded, bewildered. “There’s never been any Imperial influence on this planet before.”

“This is more than I signed up for,” Cara said succinctly, whirling around to head back in the village’s direction.

“She’s got a point,” Din told Sari when she didn’t move, still staring at the footprint on the ground. “If Imps are here, they might know we have the kid.”

“But they’re just raiders,” she said, shaking her head as she looked back up at him. “They might just have Imperial tech.”

“Either way, the village doesn’t stand a chance and you know it,” he insisted. “The most we can do is warn everyone to evacuate, move somewhere else.”

Sari chewed her lip, glancing between the large footprint and then the village that lay behind them, before exhaling quietly in surrender. “You’re right. We can’t fight an AT-ST.”

Din could see that her expression was pinched as she turned away from him, though, clearly still torn on what to do as they followed Cara back to the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinting a little more at Sari's backstory here and adding a little more mystery that I'm aiming to explore further down the line. :)
> 
> Also I needed an explanation for why Omera could shoot so well because they just never explained it in the show, so Sari's the one who taught her and I stand by that headcanon until a valid explanation reveals itself in canon.
> 
> Next chapter's one of my favorites not for the fight scene, but the fluff that follows (*cough* only one bed *cough*), so I'm really excited to finish editing and post that soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team takes on an AT-ST and post-battle fluff ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hint: hover over the underlined Mando'a words appearing in this chapter. :) It may look like a link, but hovering over it will give you a translation.

“Bad news, you can’t live here anymore,” the Mandalorian said to the gathered crowd.

As the villagers exploded into loud protests, Sari grimaced slightly as she leaned on the doorway of the barn, keeping her head down so that her hair, loose from its usual braid, would shield her face from anyone attempting to look at her. She felt terrible enough that they couldn’t protect the village or even offer a better solution than to run.

Grogu cooed up at her from where he was nestled in her arms, his little hands reaching up to tangle in her hair and play with the curls closest to him. He was still a little groggy from his nap, but the sound of the villagers arguing had made him far more alert. His wide, dark eyes fixed on Sari’s face helped her feel just a little better as she held him closer.

“Nice bedside manner,” Cara muttered from the Mandalorian’s other side, just barely loud enough for Sari to hear her.

“Think you can do better?” the Mandalorian retorted under his breath.

“Can’t do much worse,” Cara sighed before turning back to the crowd. “I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear,” she called over the noise as they reluctantly settled down again. “But we don’t have any other options.”

“But you took the job!” Stoke protested.

“Yeah!” a few of the villagers agreed vehemently.

“That was before we knew about the AT-ST,” Cara pointed out, frustrated.

“AT-ST?” Caben echoed, frowning.

“The armored walker with two enormous guns that you all knew about and didn’t tell us,” Cara retorted and the crowd broke out into protests again.

“Please help us!”

“You promised!”

“You’re supposed to help us!”

Sari swallowed, her throat far too painfully tight to risk speaking as she lowered Grogu to the porch so that he would settle at her feet before lifting her hands to sign to the Mandalorian, _They have nowhere to go._

“Sari says you have nowhere to go,” he translated for her as he turned to face the crowd again, although she could see his helmet was still tilted slightly in her direction, watching her for any more signs. “Is that true?”

“It is,” Omera confirmed grimly, glancing at Sari worriedly - Sari knew she would probably be questioned about her sudden speechlessness later - before turning back to the Mandalorian. “Our whole lives are here.”

“I’m sure you’ll find another place, this is a big planet,” Cara said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve seen smaller.”

“My grandparents seeded these ponds,” Caben argued, gesturing behind them to the fields of krill ponds littered around the outskirts of the village.

“It took generations,” Stoke added.

“I understand that, but there are only three of us. And Sari’s most likely sitting this out, which leaves just two,” Cara said, frowning.

 _Debatable_ , Sari signed, earning a sharp head-turn in her direction from the Mandalorian that she assumed was meant to be disapproving.

“No, we’ve got at least twenty,” another villager piped up tentatively.

“I mean fighters. Be realistic,” Cara dismissed.

“We can learn!” someone called from the back of the crowd.

“Give us a chance!” another added.

 _Omera knows how to shoot because I taught her_ , Sari signed so that she wouldn’t have to raise her voice over the crowd for the Mandalorian to hear. _We could teach the others. They won’t leave this place._

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, but Omera had already seen her signing. “Sari’s right,” she spoke up, making them both turn to her. “We’re not leaving. So our only option is to learn to fight. All of us.”

The villagers around her clamored in agreement.

“Yeah!”

“We can do this!”

“I’ve seen that thing take out entire companies of soldiers in a matter of minutes,” Cara said sharply, “You can’t fight that.”

“Unless we teach them how,” the Mandalorian said quietly at last as his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. He glanced at Sari once more, tilting his head to ask her silently if she was sure, and she nodded in confirmation; if there was a chance they could protect the village rather than abandon it, she couldn’t risk giving it up.

Grogu pulled himself to a standing position using the fabric of Sari’s pant leg, gurgling up at them hopefully, and the Mandalorian sighed heavily.

“Alright. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Dank farrik,” Cara swore under her breath, but obediently straightened, grudgingly on board as well.

* * *

“Alright, baby, you’re gonna stay right here with Winta and the other kids until we come get you,” Sari crooned soothingly as she settled Grogu into Winta’s waiting arms.

He burbled a quiet goodbye, patting her cheek before obediently settling into Winta’s embrace as Sari stepped back to glance around at the group of children gathered in the hut around her.

“All of you will be safe in here,” she instructed them. “So no matter what happens, until one of your parents or my friends comes in and tells you it’s safe, don’t come out. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” they dutifully chorused all the same.

Only Winta remained silent, watching Sari with worried, dark eyes that reminded her far too much of Omera. She had been watching as Sari, the Mandalorian, and Cara had trained the adults in the village throughout the day in both shooting and hand-to-hand combat, and Sari knew she understood the gravity of the situation they were in, even if some of her peers didn’t.

“Will you and Mama come back?” she asked at last, her voice trembling.

“‘Course we will,” Sari reassured her softly. “We’ll be back before you know it. Keep Grogu out of trouble for me, okay?” She ruffled the wispy hair on Grogu’s wrinkled little head affectionately.

“I will,” Winta promised solemnly and Sari ruffled her hair as well before shutting the door of the hut behind herself on the way out.

“Is the kid secure?” the Mandalorian asked as she joined him and Cara at the barn.

“Yeah, he’s with Winta and the other children,” she confirmed. “It’s almost dark. Are you two heading out to the camp now?”

“We are,” he confirmed.

“Sure you’re good to fight?” Cara instinctively glanced at the edge of the bandages peeking out from underneath Sari’s shirt and Sari waved off the concern.

“I’m good. I can rest all I want after tonight if the plan works.” The truth was that she didn’t know if the residual effect of Grogu’s powers had somehow sped the healing process up, but she felt stronger than she had even that morning when they had arrived in the village.

“Be prepared and get your sister and the others into position,” the Mandalorian instructed her. “When we return, we’ll be coming in hot.”

“We’ll be ready,” she agreed.

His hand twitched awkwardly at his side, as if it had been about to reach out for hers, but then he stepped back before she could throw caution to the wind and meet his hand halfway.

“Let’s go,” he told Cara as he turned on his heel to stride past the large barricade the villagers had spent the afternoon putting up and the massive krill pond they had dug into as a trap to bring the AT-ST down.

Cara lifted her eyebrows at Sari, who shrugged back. “Don’t ask me what’s going on under that helmet, your guess is as good as mine.”

“I don’t know, my guess might be a little better.” Cara grinned before holding her hand out for Sari to clasp briefly. “Good luck.”

“You, too. Watch each other’s backs,” Sari said sincerely before letting go and watching Cara take off after the Mandalorian towards the tree line.

Once they were finally out of sight, camouflaged by the encroaching darkness and the forest, she turned back to the villagers gathering anxiously at the edge of the farmstead, glad to see Omera breaking away from the crowd to join her. She lifted her hands and began to sign instructions to Omera, glad that she didn’t have to worry about any public speaking with her sister there. She could handle a crowd of children, but a crowd of adults was another thing altogether.

“We’re going to split into two groups,” Omera called out loudly enough for the gathered villagers to hear, translating for Sari, “The half of the village that trained with Sari and the Mandalorian this afternoon will be positioned in the center of the barricade with their blasters. The half that trained with Cara will be on the far left with their spears. Sari, Cara, and the Mandalorian will be near the krill pond on the right to take on the AT-ST. Get into positions, Cara and the Mandalorian will be back any moment now.”

As Sari lowered her hands again, Omera turned to her, her dark eyes worried like her daughter’s had been.

“You’re signing a lot today,” she noted under her breath so that only Sari could hear.

“Combination of nerves and not wanting to raise my voice much,” Sari reassured her, honest for once. “I’m not going mute again, don’t worry.”

Omera cracked a tiny smile. “Good. You’ve come a long way since we were children, I’d hate to think you were losing your voice again.”

“Go get your gun,” Sari told her with a goodnatured roll of her eyes, nudging her shoulder.

As Omera laughed quietly and headed across the field to the left of the barricade, Sari noticed Caben’s eyes following her from where he’d settled on the right side of the barricade, spear clutched in his hands.

He caught Sari’s eye when she raised an eyebrow at him, turning bright pink and mouthing silently, “Don’t say anything.”

She pointedly shook her head, not promising anything; she was far too morbidly fascinated by the thought of anyone having a crush on her sister. While it had been years since Omera’s husband had passed and she deserved the chance to move on if she wanted to, it was still strange to Sari, having grown up with Omera.

Sari put the thought out of her mind as she settled in behind the far right barricade, examining the krill pond they had dug one last time; it had been deep enough with a muddy slope even before they had started digging, but then they had made the slope steeper so that one misstep from the AT-ST would send it tumbling into the water below and they could destroy it more easily once it had fallen.

All too soon, Cara and the Mandalorian burst through the trees, racing back to the village as quickly as their legs could carry them, and Sari gaped at the AT-ST thundering after them through the trees. She had never actually seen an Imperial Walker before in person, so the massive steel monstrosity towering over the tree line was enough to give her pause and wonder if they really could pull this plan off.

“This is it. Once we get that thing into the pond, it’s going down,” Cara panted as she and the Mandalorian hopped over the barricade next to Sari and pulled their blasters out. Sari did the same, flipping off the safety and peering over the barricade at the AT-ST. “Weapons ready!” Cara called to the villagers, who lifted their blasters and spears respectively, but then the AT-ST stopped a few feet away from the edge of the pond, visibly hesitating.

“Just a few more steps,” Sari heard the Mandalorian mutter beside her, breathing hard from how fast he had been running.

The AT-ST turned on a blindingly-white flashlight suddenly, its large red lenses scanned the huts silently, but Sari could hear the motors whirring inside the large machine as it worked to try and find any sign of the villagers.

She glanced down the barricade and caught Omera’s eye, signing quickly, _Stay down. Pass it on._

Omera nodded grimly before whispering into her neighbor’s ear. Slowly, the message moved down the line and each of the villagers ducked down behind the barricade. A long, tense moment hung in the air as everyone remained as still as possible.

Finally, the AT-ST decided to fire several laser blasts blindly into the village, which zoomed over their heads and landed on the ground behind them.

“Kriff!” Sari swore as a laser blast barely missed the top of her head, allowing the Mandalorian to grab her roughly and pull her further down to the ground.

“It’s like you’re _trying_ to get shot twice in one week,” he told her sharply. “Take your own advice and stay down.” She flushed slightly at the reprimand, but nodded, unable to argue.

“Hold your positions!” Cara shouted down the barricade when some of the villagers began to shift uneasily to avoid the barrage of laser fire over their heads.

It was then that the Klatooinians came, bursting past the trees and between the AT-ST’s legs towards the barricades.

“Open fire!” Cara commanded and Omera’s side of the barricade began to fire laser blasts at the incoming raiders. Sari felt a small twinge of pride when her sister didn’t miss a single target and even ordered the middle team with spears to take the raiders on as well.

The AT-ST was still the primary problem, though, swinging its massive lenses around at the spread-out villagers and trying to determine where to fire next.

“We have to take that thing down before it can fire again or none of this will matter,” Sari told the Mandalorian.

“We might need a new plan,” Cara agreed as she turned back to them, frowning as she debated what to do before holding her hand out. “Give me your pulse rifle.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the Mandalorian handed over the rifle and Cara took off at a run around the barricade towards a second krill pond behind their trap, hopping down into the water and taking cover behind a raised stone. She opened fire on the AT-ST as it took a step forward to retaliate, but stopped again at the edge of the pond.

“Come on, take the bait, you hunk of junk,” the Mandalorian said under his breath and Sari pushed herself up onto her knees to peer over the barricade again at the AT-ST.

“You got any of those explosive charges on you?” she asked and the Mandalorian’s helmet swung around to face her again.

“Why?” he demanded suspiciously and she rolled her eyes as she reached out herself, snatching an explosive charge off his belt and hopping over the barricade. “Sari!” he shouted after her as she ignored him and made for the AT-ST.

As the AT-ST focused on her movement, she dodged around the responding barrage of laser fire and ducked behind it to press the explosive charge at the base of its left leg and prime it the same way she recalled doing on Nevarro. As the red light blinked, she ran back to the pond where Cara was hiding, ducking down into the water before the AT-ST could spot her again.

“Shoot the charge I planted on its leg,” she instructed breathlessly.

“Are you crazy?” Cara snapped.

“Just _do it_!” Sari retorted.

Heaving a sigh, Cara straightened again and fired off a blast that landed squarely on the blinking device on the AT-ST’s leg. The resulting explosion made the AT-ST stumble, off-balance, and slide straight into the trap they had laid for it. It struggled to climb back up the muddy slope of the krill pond, but Sari’s planted explosive had done its job and damaged the Imperial Walker’s left leg so badly that it couldn’t stand again.

The Mandalorian took the opportunity to race past the pond Sari and Cara were hiding in, another explosive charge primed in his hand, and threw it straight into the smashed cockpit window of the AT-ST before landing in the water beside Sari just as the explosion went off, rattling the ground around them.

Brushing wet hair out of her eyes, Sari pushed herself up just enough to peer over the rock Cara had been using as cover and saw the Klatooinians fleeing into the woods, the villagers cheering after them.

“Was that the plan?” the Mandalorian asked Cara wearily.

“Something like that,” she agreed with an equally-exhausted laugh, passing his rifle back to him, and Sari sank back down into the water, grimacing and clutching her side as the adrenaline began to fade and her injury finally began to protest against the strain she had put it through while running.

“Okay, you can lecture me now,” she told the Mandalorian, defeated.

He stared at her for a long moment before sighing heavily. “Don’t grab weapons from me like that again.”

“Then react faster next time I ask for one,” she retorted, but couldn’t stop herself from grinning back at him.

* * *

The villagers had insisted on throwing a celebration that very night, and it was startling for Din to see how quickly the mood of the entire town had changed with the destruction of the AT-ST and the banishment of the raiders. They had seemed so beaten down and exhausted before that they came to life now, food and drink being passed around large bonfires that they built in the middle of the village square and several people bringing out musical instruments to play.

All of the children had been brought out of hiding, too, their little hands cupped around steaming cups of something hot, and Sari herself was sitting amongst them with the Child in her lap. She had changed into one of Omera’s dresses since her own clothes had been ruined and her hair was free from its usual braid so that it could dry out from her unintended dip in the krill pond, cascading over her shoulders in loose curls that the Child played with absently between sips from the cup Sari held for him.

“What are they drinking?” Din asked when he was close enough for Sari to hear him over the loud voices of the children talking amongst themselves.

“Warm milk,” she replied and the Child let out a coo of delight as he swallowed another mouthful of milk.

Many of the children nestled around Sari gave Din wary looks, but Winta, nestled in against her aunt’s side, gave him a shy wave. He nodded back to her briefly in acknowledgment.

“Remember, kids, you all promised to go to bed right after you finish your milk. The grown-ups will come to bed later,” Sari added to the tiny crowd around her and they all nodded dutifully, their upper lips endearingly adorned with identical blue milk mustaches.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If only you’d listen to me the way they listen to you,” Din deadpanned and Sari raised an eyebrow.

“Are you still bitter that my plan actually worked?”

“You didn’t even _have_ a plan,” he reminded her.

“I did, too,” she said, insulted, “It was just formulated too quickly to tell you what it was.” She took a defiant sip of milk herself before pressing the cup back to the Child’s lips when he whined reproachfully at her.

“Grogu can sleep with me tonight, right, Aunt Sari?” Winta pleaded, pressing her head against Sari’s shoulder, and Sari glanced up at Din with a raised eyebrow, daring him to deny the request.

He rolled his eyes under the helmet, knowing she wouldn’t see it, before turning to Winta and answering, “He can stay with you.” He ignored Sari’s other eyebrow joining the first high on her forehead in surprise.

“Thank you, Mr. Mandalorian,” Winta said shyly, hiding her face behind her cup of milk.

“You’re welcome,” he said, unsure how else to respond. He had no idea how Sari could handle children so well when they threw him off-balance so easily.

“Alright, I’m seeing yawns, which means bedtime for all of the non-adults,” Sari said, ushering the children to their feet. “Go put your cups away for washing and then straight to bed, no arguments.”

“Are _you_ going to bed?” one boy asked boldly.

“What, you think I’m going to stay out here after such a long day?” Sari retorted just as easily and the boy deflated, his argument gone.

“I guess not,” he muttered sullenly before running after the rest of the children to deposit their empty cups with the other dishware. Sari passed the Child's empty cup to Winta, who took it along with her own to follow her peers.

“Hey, Sari?” Caben dodged around the stampede of children on his way over to them.

“What’s up?” Sari balanced the Child on her hip as he reached for another curl of her hair to tangle it around his little fingers and Din had to avert his gaze.

“Omera’s coming back out after putting Winta down for the night, right? I was hoping to ask her to dance,” Caben asked and Sari rolled her eyes.

“Yes, she’s coming back out, and yes, you’re welcome to ask her to dance. Why are you even asking me?”

“Because you’re intimidating and I wanted your approval,” he admitted and Sari’s eyebrows shot up in delighted surprise.

“You hear that, Mando?” she joked. “I’m intimidating.”

Din took a moment to let his helmet drift up and down, looking her over briefly; she stood at barely a head shorter than himself, held a tiny green infant of unknown species in her arms, and the hooked blades and blaster pistol she usually carried were back with their other supplies at the barn, leaving her entirely defenseless. She seemed perfectly at home in the quiet, peaceful village and hardly anything like the skilled bounty hunter he knew her to be, much less intimidating in any way.

“Intimidatingly annoying, he means,” he said dryly, ignoring the indignant scoff it earned him from Sari before she turned back to Caben.

“On principle, I have to tell you that if you hurt my sister, I’ll kill you as painfully as possible.”

Caben turned pale. “Duly noted.”

"Great, just so we’re clear." Grinning, Sari held out her free hand and Caben squeezed it in a brief handshake before hurrying back to the celebrations. “Here,” she added to Din, passing the Child over to him, and he carefully settled the green baby against his shoulder. “He’s been pining after you all night,” she added dryly.

“He has?” Din looked down at the Child, who burbled back at him seemingly in confirmation before yawning and pressing his tiny green face into a crevice between Din’s pauldron and chest plate.

“See? Case in point,” Sari pointed out with a grin. “Just leave him with Omera once he’s done clinging to you, she’ll put him down with Winta before getting back to the celebrations out here.”

“And where are _you_ going?” Din asked, frowning.

“Back to the barn, gotta set up for the night,” she answered with a shrug. “I wasn’t joking when I told that kid I wasn’t going to stay out here.”

“I guess I’ll see you there soon, then,” he said, shifting the Child in his arms in the hopes of dislodging him from the crevice in his armor, but the Child only huffed and burrowed in deeper. Din had to turn away from Sari’s smile at the Child’s antics, carrying him over to one of the bonfires to get a better look at him in the firelight. “Get out of my armor, kid, it can’t be comfortable for you,” he scolded mildly and the Child blew a raspberry at him.

“See, now I’m starting to understand how you three stick together so well,” Cara said dryly and Din looked up to see her leaning against a nearby hut, sipping a cup of spotchka. “All of you are stubborn as mules.” She glanced around curiously. “Where _is_ Sari, anyway?”

“Went to bed,” he answered, ignoring her jibe as he successfully nudged the Child out of his armor at last and set him on his knee to keep him from burrowing between the pieces of beskar again. “I’m waiting for the kid to quit clinging so I can give him to Omera, her daughter wants him to sleep over at their place tonight.”

“You might be here a while,” Cara said meaningfully, grinning as the Child flopped over onto Din’s arm and clutched at his vambrace. He carefully untangled the Child’s tiny fingers from his wrist gauntlet before he could accidentally set off the flamethrower jet built in.

“Alright, kid, I know you want to try and get yourself killed, but it’s not happening,” he sighed as the Child let out a screech of protest. “Is it because you’re tired? Are you, I don’t know, cranky or something?”

He held the Child out at arm’s length and the Child let his legs dangle freely in the air, his tiny three-toed feet sticking out below the brown rucksack-like clothing he wore.

“Kinda wish the baby-whisperer hadn’t gone to bed so early,” Cara said with a grimace as they both watched the baby’s little green face flush an angry red and his mouth open to let out an ear-splitting wail.

Startled, Din pulled him back against his chest and he immediately went silent again and blinked innocently up at Din as if he had never cried at all.

“You’re a little sneak, is what you are,” Din told him, but despite himself, he couldn’t help a small smile underneath the helmet where the Child couldn’t see. “Sari’s right, you know exactly what you’re doing. I’m giving you to Omera when I find her.”

The Child huffed, his ruse evidently having failed, but obediently slumped against his shoulder in surrender as Din patted his back absently, more out of instinct than anything.

“Are you planning to stay up longer?” he addressed Cara, who shrugged.

“Nah, I might take a leaf out of Sari’s book after a little while. It’s been a long day, I can’t imagine many people staying up tonight much longer than this.”

“Get some rest, then. And thank you.” He shifted the Child in his arms so that he could hold out a hand and Cara grasped it briefly in a firm shake.

“Anytime. It was good working with you both.”

“Good working with you, too.” He turned to glance around the village square, feeling a twinge of relief when he spotted Omera ushering her daughter into their house and crossing over to them. “Sari said to give the kid to you tonight,” he explained and Omera smiled, reaching out for the Child. He passed the baby over and ignored his responding shriek of objection.

“Someone’s definitely cranky,” Omera noted, bouncing the Child in her arms until he finally yawned and pressed his face into her shoulder, settling down against her. “You should go ahead and rest, he’ll be alright with us,” she added to Din, who nodded briefly.

“Thank you.” He cast one last glance at the Child, whose eyes had blessedly drifted shut, before forcing himself to turn away and return to the barn.

When he reached the doorway, though, he stopped in his tracks, staring at the scene before him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered, and Sari very nearly toppled off the cot, caught red-handed.

“Uh. Putting up a curtain?” She gestured to the clothesline she had just stretched across the ceiling of the barn before tossing a blanket over it to create a makeshift curtain that divided the cot in two.

“What, you think that little of me that I’d invade your privacy?” he asked, insulted.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s for _your_ privacy.” When he only continued to stare at her, she sighed sharply through her nose, frustrated. “So you can take off the armor and relax for once without anyone looking, try and keep up. I even grabbed some spotchka on the way here, if you wanted some.”

She nodded to the table, where two cups and a bottle of spotchka sat, and he noticed that she had even shut the blinds on the window so that no one could look in from outside.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he protested.

Sari rolled her eyes as she climbed down from the cot. “Just get behind the curtain, Mando.”

Still feeling a little like he’d been hit over the head - maybe the day’s events had finally caught up to him - Din decided not to question it anymore.

* * *

As the Mandalorian settled on the other side of the curtain, Sari headed over to the table and asked over her shoulder, “I’m getting myself a drink, do you want one, too?”

“Sure,” he agreed after a moment’s hesitation.

She could hear the soft clicks of each piece of armor disengaging as he removed them one at a time, keeping her gaze focused on the bottle of spotchka and the two cups in front of herself as she poured out equal amounts of the liquor. Once the cups were full, she brought them back to the cot, climbing onto her side. There was a pile of gleaming armor on the floor by the foot of the bed, but his helmet was mysteriously missing from the pile.

“Alright, cup’s coming around.” She held out one cup tentatively around the curtain and after a moment, he took it, his bare fingers brushing against hers in the process. They were rough and covered in calluses, but even warmer without the leather material of his gloves in the way, and belatedly, she wished she had thought to grab his hand and examine it a little more closely by touch alone, if she couldn’t see it directly.

“Still got the helmet on?” she guessed when she didn’t hear him take a sip.

“Oh. I, uh - yeah.” He swallowed audibly.

“I’m not going to look, you know,” she reminded him as she took a sip of her own drink.

“I believe you,” he answered, but still made no move to take off the helmet.

Even with the makeshift curtain separating them, Sari could feel the Mandalorian’s shoulder brushing against hers and leaned slightly into his side, nudging his shoulder with her own carefully. He froze briefly, but then leaned back in against her.

“When’s the last time you took it off?” she asked curiously.

“Earlier today to eat,” he pointed out, nonplussed.

“I meant in front of someone else,” she clarified, grinning despite herself at the literal answer.

“Not since I took the Creed. I wasn’t much older than your niece.” The sudden seriousness in his voice made her smile vanish as she glanced over instinctively, but all she could see was the blue fabric of the blanket between them.

“That sounds lonely,” she said quietly, dropping her gaze back down to the cup in her hands.

“It’s not so bad,” he reassured her. “I’m used to it by now.”

“Still, you haven’t shown your face to _anyone_ since you were a kid?” she pressed.

“No.” He shifted on the other side of the curtain, slightly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “I was grateful that the Mandalorians took me in. My parents were killed, and the tribe took care of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered tentatively.

“This is the Way,” he said easily, as if that was supposed to just clear up all of her confusion.

“So do you use your Creed as an excuse to make faces at me from under there?” she asked after a moment and the cot shook for a moment before she realized the Mandalorian was laughing silently at her.

“Sometimes,” he answered at last once he’d regained control of his laughter.

“Hey! Not fair!” She swatted at the outline of his shoulder through the curtain and he leaned out of her reach, clearly still amused, but far more relaxed now.

“Alright, fine. I’ll take the helmet off and put it down by the rest of the armor.”

“I’ll keep my eyes shut until you tell me it’s safe,” she agreed, obediently shutting her eyes, and after a long moment, she heard the soft hiss of his helmet sliding off and felt the mattress shift as he shuffled to place the helmet on the floor at the foot of the bed.

To avoid the temptation to peek, Sari took a sip of spotchka with her eyes still shut, appreciating the slow burn of the ale sliding down her throat. Had she been on any other planet, she might have felt a twinge of homesickness at the familiar taste.

“You can open your eyes now,” the Mandalorian said at last as his shoulder pressed back in against hers and she opened her eyes to find the familiar beskar helmet sitting on top of the pile of armor now. His voice was just a little richer without the modulator filtering it as he added, “Promise me you won’t look if this curtain comes down somehow?”

“Promise,” she reassured him and felt the last of the tension drain from the shoulder pressed against hers. “Although I can’t deny I’m tempted,” she admitted. “Just being upfront about it.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” he answered around a sip of spotchka. She could hear his throat working to swallow the alcohol.

“What color is your hair?” she asked impulsively.

The Mandalorian paused briefly beside her. “Why do you ask?”

“If I can’t look, I might as well ask,” she pointed out defensively. “It’s fine, you don’t have to actually tell-”

“Brown,” he interrupted her, sounding amused again.

“-me,” she finished lamely. “Okay.” She chewed her lip before deciding to push her luck while he was still willing to indulge her curiosity. “Eyes?”

“Also brown.”

“Damn, I thought you’d at least be interesting under that helmet,” she groused goodnaturedly, more to poke fun at him than anything, and he snorted quietly with laughter. The sound was far more satisfying without the voice modulator in the way.

“We can’t all have eyes with flecks of sunlight trapped in them like you.”

Sari nearly choked on her drink, startled; her face felt hot. She didn’t think anyone had ever described her eyes like that, much less sounded so sincere about it.

“That spotchka must have hit you harder than I thought, Mando, it’s turned you into a poet,” she teased to try and cover up how flustered the compliment had made her.

“I’m not drunk yet,” he pointed out.

“Yet,” she echoed with a grin, although she could still feel how badly her cheeks had flushed. She blamed it on the alcohol. “Okay, fine, boring hair and eye color, I can work with that. Any facial hair?”

“I’ve got a mustache,” he admitted after a moment. “Haven’t shaved since we left the Razor Crest, so some stubble, too.”

“Never mind, you’re not boring anymore,” she conceded after she took a moment to process that. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a _mustache_ , of all things - and yet it was still far more than she had expected to find out about him that night.

“That’s what turned it around for you, huh?” he said and she could practically hear the raised eyebrow and smile in his voice.

“Maybe. But I have to ask, who are you keeping the mustache for? No one’s looking at it,” she teased back.

“Well, if it offends you so much, maybe I’ll get rid of it,” he offered.

“Don’t you dare.” She pressed her free hand underneath the curtain impulsively and he slid his palm over hers slowly in return after a moment. His fingers were just as warm as before as they intertwined with hers. “Can I ask you something?”

“You’ve already asked me plenty of questions tonight, why ask for permission now?” he pointed out dryly and she turned her hand in his to pinch the skin between his thumb and forefinger. “Ow,” he deadpanned, making to pull his hand away.

“Promise me you’ll be honest,” she blurted out before she could change her mind about asking, grabbing his hand again to stop him.

“I promise.” He squeezed her fingers in his, clearly having heard the sudden seriousness in her voice.

“If this was some random village you’d come across - if it weren’t for me - would you have agreed to any of this?” She wanted to look up at him, but decided against it; even with the curtain in the way, she didn’t want to take that chance.

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a long moment. “If you weren’t here, I might’ve just taken the kid and run. Cut my losses the moment I found out Cara was here.”

“I think you would’ve stayed,” Sari offered tentatively, trying to hold onto some semblance of pragmatism. There was no way the Mandalorian would have risked so much for just her.

“Not without you,” he answered, sounding far more confident in that answer than he had been before. His fingers tightened briefly around hers, as if the strength of his grip could convince her better, and she squeezed his hand back.

“If you say so,” she managed to get out around the lump in her throat before swallowing down the last of her spotchka to ease the tightness a little.

“Your turn to be honest with me.”

“Mhm?” she answered, a little distracted by the feeling of the pad of his thumb tracing over a faded scar on the back of her hand that she’d gotten at the age of nine from a grinjer in the woods.

She still remembered running home in tears while clutching her bleeding hand, unable to express what had bitten her to her frantic adoptive parents without knowing the sign for the animal until Omera had helpfully fetched a book of animals and Sari had been able to point out the grinjer to them. She had wanted to vocalize her gratitude more than anything, but couldn’t force the words past her closed throat, so the most she could do was sign _thank you_ over and over until Omera had laughed and covered Sari’s bandaged hand with her own to stop her.

It had taken years for her to feel comfortable saying anything aloud, and even then, she had been so self-conscious about the hoarseness of her voice from years of disuse that she hadn’t bothered speaking much unless she was entirely on her own without a translator and forced to speak out loud to get what she needed. She had consulted multiple doctors on different planets and they had all told her the same thing: the damage to her vocal cords was permanent after so many years of silence. She doubted the constant rasp underlying her voice would ever disappear, no matter how much she spoke aloud.

“Why don’t you ever stay on Sorgan longer than a few months at a time?” The Mandalorian’s question drew her out of her thoughts. “Your family clearly wants you here.”

“I guess they do,” she conceded. “And it _is_ nice here, but I couldn’t stay forever. I don’t think I’d be able to sit still that long. I like traveling too much, seeing new places.” She set her empty cup on the floor behind the cot and quickly looked away to avoid any accidental glimpses as his free hand slid out to set his cup beside hers. “Besides, I never really fit in here, anyway.”

“What do you mean? Everyone here loves you,” he pointed out, bewildered.

“The kids might, sure. Show them a few magic tricks, play at their level, don’t talk down to them - it’s easy to impress kids.” Sari wished she had thought to refill her cup of spotchka instead of abandoning it. “Most of the adults here, though - they just remember me as that weird mute kid who signed all the time instead of using her words like a normal person. One more thing to remind them that I don’t belong here.”

Without letting go of the Mandalorian’s hand, she lay down, turning to face the makeshift curtain, and felt him shifting to do the same on the other side, their intertwined hands resting beneath the edge of the curtain. In the darkness of the barn, she could just barely see his fingers curled around hers, warm and solid and real.

“And where _do_ you belong?” he echoed the same question Omera had asked her earlier that day. Had it really only been that morning when they had arrived at the village? So much had happened that day that she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it.

“I guess I’m still trying to figure that out,” she admitted. “Until then, it’s like I’m a puzzle piece in the wrong box.”

“Hmm,” was all the Mandalorian said in response, the hum low and deep, and Sari suddenly wanted to hear that sound again far more often without the helmet’s voice modulator hindering it.

“What, not poetic enough for you?” she teased to lighten the dampened mood of the room. “I can get some more spotchka, see if some better inspiration strikes me. I kinda liked that ‘flecks of sunlight’ line, that was a good one. Maybe if I get another drink, I’ll reach your standard of poetry.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m perfectly sober,” she protested, although that was a blatant lie; she was closer to pleasantly tipsy, her head swimming a little.

“Then let’s not change that, mesh’la.” The foreign word slipped out languidly, as if he hadn’t meant to slip into another language; he was probably equally as tipsy, then. She wouldn’t have guessed him to be a lightweight, but clearly one cup of spotchka had been enough to prove her wrong.

“What does that word mean?” she asked and his thumb paused in the middle of brushing over her knuckles, the sensation sending a ripple of goosebumps along her arm.

“Loth-cat,” he supplied after a moment. “In Mando’a, it means loth-cat. Figured it suited you.”

“Oh.” She debated whether to take offense, but decided against it, instead impulsively shuffling closer and nestling her head against his shoulder through the makeshift curtain.

He froze, startled, before going so perfectly still that she was convinced for a moment that he had actually turned into a statue.

“I can practically hear the gears in your head turning,” she pointed out dryly. “Relax, I’m not doing anything. It’s just like last night.”

“Last night,” the Mandalorian echoed distractedly. “Right.”

Sari rolled her eyes, although she would never admit the gesture was fond, before turning her face into the warmth of his shoulder, trying not to think about how it was far more comfortable without a beskar pauldron in the way.

“Go to sleep, Mando.”

“Whatever you say, mesh’la.”

His fingers were still curled around hers and she let her thumb slowly slide over his knuckles in return before finally shutting her eyes and letting sleep overtake her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ Din: why the fuck you lying why you always lying mmm oh my god stop fucking LYING
> 
> Just in case no one hovered over the text, here's the obligatory Mando'a translation taken from mandoa.org because Din Djarin is a liar and a coward:
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful (not loth-cat)
> 
> Also I thought I was being really clever with that "puzzle piece in the wrong box" line and then I Googled it on a whim and it turned out plenty of other people have used it before. Goddamn it, nothing is original anymore ;A;
> 
> But yes, this is easily my favorite chapter that I've written so far purely for the second half and I was going to wait a couple days to post it, BUT THE FLUFF CAN'T BE STOPPED.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing lasts forever, especially not peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an FYI, I went back and edited the previous chapter so that if you hover over the Mando'a text, it'll display the translation (it'll look like a link, but it's only translations). I'll do this in the future for all chapters, as well as add the translations in the author's notes at the end for anyone who missed them in the actual chapter. :)

“Winta, what have I told you about letting Grogu eat frogs?” Sari demanded as she approached the group of children making dramatic gagging noises and yet egging Grogu on at the same time as he stuffed a frog into his mouth.

“Don’t?” Winta guessed, her nose wrinkling as she watched the gruesome scene along with her peers.

“Exactly. Spit it out, Grogu,” Sari scolded firmly.

The green child eyed her for a moment to see if she was serious before reluctantly letting the frog fall out of his mouth. The frog, seizing its new lease on life, leapt into the nearest krill pond to swim as far away from Grogu as possible, and the kids groaned in protest as their entertainment vanished.

“Good baby,” Sari crooned and Grogu’s ears perked up at the praise, his large eyes crinkling as he smiled broadly and lifted his arms for her to scoop him up. She readily did so, settling him on her hip and glancing instinctively up at the barn, where Cara and the Mandalorian were talking quietly.

The T-shaped visor of his helmet was angled towards Sari, though, and she gave him a brief smile when she caught him watching. While his helmet remained expressionless, there was a relaxed set to his shoulders that she was beginning to see more and more in the three weeks that had passed since they had chased off the raiders tormenting her village.

Even though he still pulled on his helmet every morning before she even had the chance to open her eyes, they still slept beside each other each night, often with their hands intertwined and the makeshift curtain the only thing keeping them separated. Sari had been tempted several times to pull the blanket back and sneak a peek at her companion, but had stamped down the urge; the Mandalorian had trusted her not to break his Creed and she didn’t want to ruin what little friendship they’d begun to build up.

“Eh?” Grogu’s soft, curious voice distracted Sari, making her glance down at him as he reached up to press his tiny hand to her cheek.

“It’s nothing, kiddo, I was just thinking about something,” she reassured him, tilting her head slightly into his palm, but froze when he shut his eyes, clearly concentrating on trying to show her something. Swallowing, she allowed him to press the image into her head, the same way he had with his own name a month earlier.

As she focused on the image, Sari could see herself - or the underside of her jaw, anyway, with the angle Grogu had been looking up at her from - as she glanced across the field to the barn. The usual furrow she saw between her own eyebrows every time she looked in a mirror was gone, her shoulders free of tension and relaxed for once, and the smile on her face was soft and tender in a way she had never seen in her reflection before.

“Is that what you saw just now?” she asked when she shook herself out of the daze the image had left her in and Grogu gurgled back up at her in confirmation. “Huh.”

She shifted the child in her arms absently, purposely ignoring how her stomach flipped at the realization of whom exactly she had been looking at to cause that smile; unpacking that swirling cloud of unfamiliar emotions could wait another day.

“It’s really spooky how you can do that, you know,” she told Grogu instead. He blew a raspberry at her in return and she rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine, I still love you. Frogs and weird visions and all. Now go play with your friends.” She dropped an impulsive kiss on top of his little wrinkled head, earning a squeak of delight from him, before she set him back down to watch him toddle towards the rest of the village children.

It was frightening how easily Grogu had wormed his way into her heart without so much as a word other than the occasional baby noise - but then again, Sari knew she had always had a soft spot for children of any kind, no matter what age or species they were. She and Omera had taken to teaching Grogu as many signs as his small three-fingered hands and and even smaller patience could handle and while Sari wondered if he would ever learn to actually speak, she decided it didn’t matter; she had managed just fine for years without speaking, and Grogu had the same option if he wanted it.

“Sari.” She looked up from where Grogu was chasing after the flopping krill on the ground that the children were throwing to him - one of their favorite games - to find that the Mandalorian had appeared at her side silently while she had been lost in her own thoughts. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” she agreed easily and he tilted his helmet towards the trees to indicate that they should get some distance from the children.

With one last glance at Grogu, who was happily occupied with playing, Sari followed the Mandalorian down the path, stopping near one of the krill ponds at the edge of the village near the tree line. She could see Cara disappearing into the forest behind them for their usual daily patrol to make sure the raiders wouldn’t return to the village.

“What is it?” she asked as she turned back to the Mandalorian.

“I-” She could hear him swallow hard; whatever he was about to say clearly wasn’t going to be easy for either of them. “I’m leaving soon.”

“You mean _we_ are,” she corrected and he shook his head.

“No. Just me.”

“Somehow, I knew this conversation was coming,” she admitted. “But in any case, that’s not happening.”

“Look at him, Sari.” The Mandalorian looked back at Grogu squealing with laughter as he wobbled on shaky legs as fast as he could away from Winta, who chased him while giggling herself. “He’s happy here. You both are. I can’t take either of you away from that.”

“So all that ‘we’re in this together’ talk was a bunch of bantha shit?” Sari snapped and the Mandalorian’s helmet swiveled back around to face her, clearly alarmed. She was tempted to punch him, but covered in armor as he was, she only stood a chance of breaking her own fingers. “We’re in this together until _you_ decide what’s best for us? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not-”

“Did you even think for one second that if Grogu and I were to stay - a purely hypothetical scenario, by the way - we would want you here with us?” she interrupted him and the sudden tension in his shoulders gave away his surprise.

“I don’t belong here,” he said carefully after a moment.

“I’m pretty sure that none of us actually belong here,” she retorted, but her anger was already draining again despite her best efforts to cling to it; anger was an emotion she could understand more easily than the unfamiliar twinge of anxiety she felt at the thought of him leaving her and Grogu behind to go back to traveling alone. “So the least we can do is stick together.”

“That’s not-” The Mandalorian swallowed harshly again. “It’s not in the cards for me.”

“Then what is?” Sari reached up impulsively, pressing her palm against where she imagined his cheek would be. He didn’t move to stop her, though she was sure he easily could have. “We could all stay,” she offered tentatively. “As long as you want to, no time limit on that. But if you’re going, then we’re going with you.”

“Mesh’la, don’t,” he said faintly even as she lifted her free hand to place it on the other side of his helmet. The beskar was cold underneath her fingers.

“Then stop me,” she challenged, though it came out far softer than she’d intended. Her heart hammered in her throat as she searched the darkened visor for any sign of what he would do next.

He hesitated for a long moment, but then reached up deliberately, his gloved fingers sliding around her wrists and pulling her hands away from his helmet.

“Don’t,” he said a little more firmly and Sari obediently stepped back again, letting her hands fall back to her sides once he released them.

“Fine. But whatever we do, we’re going to make that choice together, and I’m not considering any option where any one of us ends up alone again.”

“Sari-” the Mandalorian began, his voice cracking slightly on her name, but then the sound of a blaster going off echoed through the woods and they both jolted in surprise. “Get the kid,” he ordered, all vulnerability in his voice gone, and Sari nodded quickly as she took off at a run for the children, who had huddled together in fear as they stared at the Mandalorian disappearing into the woods.

“Grogu?” she called frantically and two large green ears poked out from Winta’s arms. “Oh, thank goodness,” Sari breathed, holding her arms out, and Winta passed him over. Sari clutched Grogu tightly, pressing her face into the top of his head. “You okay, bud?” she murmured, rubbing his back soothingly.

He cooed an affirmation, clutching the collar of her shirt with trembling fingers, and she pressed a kiss against his little forehead, settling him on her hip again so that he would be more comfortable holding onto her.

“Is everyone else okay?” she asked the children surrounding her and received identical nods; whatever had fired that blaster hadn’t reached them, for which Sari was immensely grateful to whatever higher power existed.

The Mandalorian appeared at the tree line with Cara behind him and even before he lifted his hands, Sari knew she could take a good guess from the grim expression on Cara’s face and the smoking blaster she held. Dread sank in her stomach as Grogu clung more tightly to her and whimpered softly, sensing her distress.

 _Bounty hunter,_ the Mandalorian signed, _He was_ _here for the kid._

* * *

“Sure you don’t want an escort back?” Cara asked as the Mandalorian loaded the last of their things onto the cargo sled.

“No, we’re bypassing the town and heading straight back to the Razor Crest,” he explained.

“Apologize to Alma for me if you see her, I was supposed to tell her I was leaving,” Sari added over her shoulder as she helped push a crate onto the sled.

The village had insisted on providing as many supplies as the Razor Crest could carry for their trip, since neither of them knew when or where they would land next. Sari had also luckily gone to the nearest town the previous week to get herself some more clothes since the few shirts and pants she had originally owned had either burned up with the Interstellar or had been riddled with laser burns and waterlogged.

“Will do.” Cara held out her hand to the Mandalorian first. “Until our paths cross.”

“Until our paths cross,” he echoed, clasping her hand firmly.

“You three be careful,” Cara added to Sari, squeezing her hand in a brief goodbye next.

“I know _I_ will, but I’ll make no such promises when it comes to these two,” Sari said dryly, earning a knowing grin from Cara.

Grogu sat on top of a crate in the cargo sled, his eyes dark and sad as he looked over Sari’s shoulder at the gathered villagers, and Winta broke away from the crowd to run up to the cargo sled and scoop him up into a tight hug.

“I’m gonna miss you _so much_ ,” she told Grogu fervently before putting him back down. He gurgled back at her, patting her cheek in an affectionate farewell before signing a proper goodbye as well, his fingers opening and closing as he mimicked the gesture Omera and Sari had drilled into him.

“Wow, alright, tell the kid that and not your own aunt,” Sari deadpanned and Winta turned wide, watery eyes on her. “Aw, no, come on, Winta, I was only joking. Come here.” Sari knelt down to her height and drew her into an embrace, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “I’ll come back and visit in less than four years,” she reassured the small girl.

“Pinky swear?” Winta pulled back with a sniffle, holding her pinky out, and Sari grinned as she hooked her pinky around her niece’s.

“Pinky swear, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in the eye. Now be good for your mother or I’ll tell Mando to fly straight back here and eat you for breakfast.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet swung sharply in Sari’s direction - a silent warning, she knew - but she only grinned back at him unashamedly as Cara snorted with laughter behind them. Despite the threat, Winta giggled tearily as she let go of Sari and ran across the distance between herself and the Mandalorian to throw her arms around his waist.

He froze, startled as he stared down at the top of her head, and Sari almost wished she had a way to freeze the moment in time to keep it for herself. She would just have to sketch it from memory later; her art supplies were nestled on the cargo sled already, since the Razor Crest was large enough to keep more of her things with her.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Mandalorian,” Winta told him shyly.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat as he patted her gingerly on the back. “You’re welcome.”

She gave him a tentative smile before letting go and huddling back against her mother’s side as she approached the sled. Sari climbed to her feet in time to draw Omera into an embrace as well.

“I meant what I said,” she promised quietly, “Less than four years this time. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Be safe.” Omera squeezed her back briefly before looking over her shoulder at the Mandalorian, who had climbed onto the cargo sled. “Thank you.” He dipped his head in a brief acknowledgment and Omera hugged Sari one last time before tugging Winta back to give them room to leave.

Sari noticed Caben sliding one arm around Omera’s waist as she rejoined the crowd and raised a pointed eyebrow at him. He flushed a little, unable to quite meet her eyes, and Omera rolled her eyes back at Sari, catching the silent exchange as she leaned into Caben’s side.

“There’s still time to change your mind and stay if you want,” the Mandalorian said quietly as Sari turned to climb onto the sled beside him. She fixed him with a pointed stare and he lifted his hands slightly in surrender. “Just a thought.”

“Well, put that particular thought out of your head and stop trying to ditch me,” she said sharply, settling Grogu in her lap before shuffling closer to press her shoulder against the Mandalorian’s. “We’re in this together,” she echoed his own words back to him. “You, me, and the kid. Understand?” When he only stared at her, she nudged his shoulder a little more firmly. “I need an answer, Mando.”

He swallowed hard, audible even through the voice modulator in his helmet. “Yeah,” he said roughly at last and she wondered if the sentiment had affected him just as much as it had her three weeks earlier. “I understand.”

“Good, because I was going to have to come up with my own material otherwise. I’ve already exhausted yours,” she teased as Stoke climbed into the driver’s side of the cargo sled, starting it up.

Ignoring the silent indignation radiating off the Mandalorian in waves, she straightened again, lifting one of Grogu’s little hands to wave at the crowd of gathered villagers as the cargo sled began to pull away. The children all lifted their hands to frantically wave back, calling out goodbyes through tears, and even Cara cracked a small smile as she wiggled her fingers at Grogu in a silent farewell.

* * *

“I know you miss your friends,” Din could hear Sari crooning to the Child over the sound of his fussing as she settled him in his hammock in the sleeping berth below. “But we’ll see them again, don’t worry.”

Din swung around in his chair, almost tempted to call down to her to not make the kid any promises she couldn’t keep, but then bit his tongue just in time. He knew it had probably been hard enough for her to leave her family behind yet again, no matter how often she had insisted that she wanted to keep traveling. It was why he had tried so many times to convince her to stay behind at the village with the Child, and yet she had insisted on following him into space again and dragging the Child along with her.

Then again, she had also given Din the option to stay with them on Sorgan, and the sight of her slender fingers just barely within his range of vision as they grasped the edges of his helmet had been so overwhelming that he had been tempted for a split moment to let her slide it off. He wouldn’t have ever been allowed to put the helmet on again by Creed, but maybe it would have been worth it to stay with Sari and the Child in that tiny, quiet village as long as they had wanted him there.

Footsteps approaching the ladder made Din swivel back around again quickly, focusing on the control panel in front of him to pretend he hadn’t been staring at the ladder, lost in his thoughts.

“Alright, Grogu’s down for a nap and we’re ready for takeoff,” Sari confirmed as she climbed up and sank into the chair beside him, her backpack of art supplies clutched in one hand. “Right?”

“Right,” he echoed, trying to sound as neutral as possible, but she seemed to have heard the underlying hesitation in his voice.

“That disappointed I’m still here, huh?” she teased as she turned away to fiddle with the control panel, but he could hear the brief flash of uncertainty behind it and something in his chest twisted painfully.

It felt much like it had three weeks earlier as he listened to Sari talk about feeling like a puzzle piece in the wrong box in the cool darkness of the barn with nothing but a blanket thrown over a clothesline to keep her from seeing his face. He hadn’t known how to erase the vulnerability in her voice then, nor did he know how to erase it now.

“No,” he answered instinctively, “I’m glad you’re here.”

He watched Sari’s throat work as she swallowed, fingers stilling on the shift knob the Child liked to unscrew and play with. “Yeah?” she said quietly, keeping her eyes averted.

“The kid likes you, he’d have been upset if you stayed behind,” he tried to cover up the outburst and she cracked a small, humorless smile.

“I’ve told you before, kids are easy to impress.” She buckled herself in and tucked her backpack underneath her seat, settling back and focusing her gaze skyward. She had deliberately avoided looking at him the entire time. “Let’s get going.”

“Right.” Mentally kicking himself for royally botching that conversation, Din flipped on the Razor Crest’s engines and pulled the lever to get them in the air. “Grab the-” He broke off when he realized Sari’s hand was already on the lever in front of her, prepared to keep the ship steady as they soared towards the atmosphere.

“I got it,” she reassured him.

“Oh. Okay.” He’d forgotten that she knew the Razor Crest about as well as he himself did by now, having practically rebuilt it from scratch alongside him and Kuiil on Arvala-7. Had that really only been a month earlier? It felt more like an eternity had passed, and yet since then, everything in his life had done nothing but upend itself around him.

Once they were out of Sorgan’s atmosphere, the Razor Crest sliding smoothly into hyperdrive, Din glanced over at the sound of soft scratching beside him to see that Sari had pulled out a sketchbook and a piece of charcoal to begin drawing, her eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration.

“What are you drawing?” he asked and she didn’t look up from her sketch.

“You.”

He stared at her long enough to make her tear her eyes away from the page at last.

“Me?” he echoed, realizing he’d been silent for far too long when her eyebrows began drifting up slowly in concern.

“You were holding still long enough that I got you on paper without you even noticing,” she explained, finally cracking a real smile as she dropped her gaze again and twisted her hand to outline something on the page.

The tightness in his chest loosened a little at the sight of her smile; she wasn’t upset with him, and the sharp relief that the realization brought was more overwhelming than he’d expected.

“Grogu always notices right away when I start drawing him and starts fidgeting on purpose just to be difficult, so I usually have to draw him from memory,” she added.

“How many times have you drawn me without me noticing?” Din was suddenly tempted to grab the notebook and rifle through it to find the answer out for himself, as selfish as it was.

“Just this once,” Sari reassured him, setting down the piece of charcoal before turning the sketchbook in his direction for him to see.

His own helmet stared back at him like a reflection, the dark shape of the visor identical to the one he was currently looking through. The charcoal couldn’t quite capture the unique sheen of beskar in daylight - he doubted any kind of art medium could - but the shading had been successful in matching it as closely as possible.

“It’s good,” he told her honestly and she relaxed marginally, turning the sketchbook back towards herself and grabbing her piece of charcoal again as she continued to sketch.

“Thanks.”

* * *

Sari grimaced to herself at the tacky residue the charcoal had left on her fingers when she finally placed the stick back into its small tin a couple of hours later, examining her completed drawing of Winta with her arms around the Mandalorian’s waist in a tight embrace. It wasn’t perfect, she knew, but the memory associated with the sketch would probably bring a smile to her face every time she looked at it for the rest of her life.

“Kid’s awake,” the Mandalorian said beside her and she glanced up from her sketchbook to see Grogu clambering up the ladder and yawning as he toddled up to the co-pilot’s chair and held his arms out to Sari. His eyes were still half-lidded, which only served to make the sleepy look on his face all the more endearing.

“Hi, baby,” she crooned fondly, reaching down to scoop him up and settle him in her lap. “Did you sleep okay?”

He yawned again, leaning heavily against her and letting his eyes drift fully shut again.

“Oh, okay, I guess you’re not done napping yet.” She ruffled the wispy hair on top of his head affectionately as she shut her sketchbook with her free hand and tucked it into her backpack. “I’m thinking we ought to find some kind of carrier for him at the next stop we make,” she added over his head to the Mandalorian. “Especially now that we don’t have a pod for him to use.”

“We’ll find one,” he agreed. “I’m aiming for Tatooine next. It’s not far from here and we’re running low on credits. I could pick up some bounty work while we’re there.”

“The market in Mos Eisley is good,” Sari agreed, recalling the layout of the desert planet. While she had hated the arid climate during her rare visits to Tatooine, she couldn’t deny that it made sense for their next stop. “I can probably find a carrier for Grogu there.” Grogu snuffled sleepily at the sound of his own name, but didn’t stir from his nap. “Besides, I’ve sold sketches there before years ago,” Sari added to the Mandalorian. “One of my rare legitimate sources of income.”

“You sell your drawings?” His helmet tilted curiously in her direction and she shrugged.

“By commission, yeah. They don’t earn much - maybe a couple hundred credits for each one - but they’re something, at least.” She dropped her gaze down to Grogu as he twitched in his sleep, unable to help but crack a smile. “I think he’s dreaming about something.”

The Mandalorian’s gaze fell down to the child in her lap as well. “How do you know?”

“Just this feeling I’ve got.” Sari brushed a finger over one of Grogu’s large ears. “He tried doing that weird telepathy thing again before we left the village, by the way. I forgot to mention it, with everything that happened around then.”

The Mandalorian looked up at her again sharply. “When was this? What did he tell you?”

“It happened right before you came over to talk to me,” she admitted, but then recalled what exactly Grogu had shown her and decided against telling the Mandalorian what she had seen. “I don’t know what it was, the image wasn’t clear,” she lied. “But I figured you should know he was doing it, in case he tries it again with you sometime.”

“Right,” the Mandalorian said slowly, helmet drifting between the two of them warily.

“Don’t do that, you’re making me sound crazy,” Sari sighed. “You’ve literally seen him picking up a mudhorn, it’s not _that_ unbelievable.”

“That doesn't make it easier to wrap my head around it.” The Mandalorian turned back to the control panel in front of him and flipped a switch, clearly trying to distract himself. “Nor does it explain why you pick up on what he’s doing so quickly.”

“If I had an explanation for you, I’d give it,” Sari pointed out. “Maybe it’s just because I’m not exactly as close-minded as you when it comes to this stuff.”

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, his shoulders still stiff with tension as he pushed a lever on the control panel forward to bring them out of hyperspace as they neared Tatooine.

“Hey.” Sari reached out impulsively, pressing her hand over his on the lever, and he froze, his helmet facing deliberately away from her. “You do believe me, right? When I say Grogu’s trying to talk to me?”

He hesitated before releasing the lever and turning his hand over in hers to grasp it tightly. The feeling of their fingers intertwining brought back memories of the nights they had spent in the barn, their hands joined underneath the makeshift curtain she had made for them, and she selfishly wished he didn’t have a glove on now.

“I believe you,” he said quietly at last. “I don’t understand how any of it works, but I don’t think you’re making it up.”

“Then call Grogu by his name sometime,” she offered and he finally returned his gaze to hers. “I think he’d like that.”

The Mandalorian swallowed before dropping his gaze to Grogu, who was still curled up in Sari’s lap contentedly. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She squeezed his fingers briefly, but then the Razor Crest decided to jolt sharply as if hit by something, knocking their hands apart as she scrambled instinctively to haul Grogu closer. “What happened?” she asked, glancing out the window in alarm as Grogu started awake, letting out a whimper of confusion and fear as he clung to her shirt tightly.

“Another bounty hunter,” the Mandalorian answered grimly, flipping on the radar screen to reveal a fighter jet soaring in their wake.

“Not again,” Sari sighed wearily, rubbing Grogu’s back to soothe him after his unexpected wake-up call. “Can we lose them?”

“Working on it.” The Mandalorian pushed another lever and the Razor Crest spun into a barrel roll, barely dodging the fighter jet as it unleashed a barrage of laser fire.

A stray blast caught the right engine of the Razor Crest and Sari saw smoke drifting from the damaged engine out of the corner of her eye. The Razor Crest listed dangerously to the right as another barrage of attacks made direct impact with the engine, causing it to fail entirely.

Impulsively, Sari flipped on the comms and the signal crackled for a moment before an unfamiliar voice came through, “Hand over the child, Mando, and I might let you and the girl live.”

“Oh, he _might_ let us live. Well, I’m real convinced now,” she deadpanned after making sure they themselves were muted and heard a quiet snort of laughter beside her.

“Hold on tight. Keep the kid close.” Sari tightened her hold on Grogu as the Mandalorian hit the brakes hard. The Razor Crest jerked sharply as it pulled to a stop and the fighter jet shot past them, zooming ahead and landing squarely in the Razor Crest’s crosshairs.

“I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold,” the other bounty hunter warned and the Mandalorian gestured with one hand for Sari to release the mute button on the comms. She obeyed before sliding her arm back around Grogu as he pressed his small face into her collarbone.

“That’s my line,” he told the other bounty hunter dryly before firing the Razor Crest’s lasers in return.

The fighter jet exploded in a miniature ball of flames before the vacuum of space extinguished it just as quickly, leaving nothing but bits of scrap metal and a charred body floating in the explosion’s wake.

“Osik,” the Mandalorian muttered in Mando’a as he glanced out the window at their own failed engine before tapping a few buttons on the console to bring up diagnostics. Sari assumed - likely correctly - that he had just sworn in the foreign language. “We’re losing fuel.”

“Can we get down to Tatooine’s surface in time?” she asked as she peered at the diagnostics screen on the console, settling Grogu back on her knees now that the danger seemed to have passed. “It’s straight ahead, so we could probably swing it.” She nodded to the massive orange planet in front of them.

As if the Razor Crest had overheard the comment, its power shut down immediately and Sari let out a long sigh and lifted her head to stare at the ceiling as they were plunged into darkness, suspended in space.

“The universe just loves proving me wrong.” Grogu giggled from his place in her lap, clearly having recovered from the scare he had gotten.

“Then stop tempting fate,” the Mandalorian answered dryly as he flipped a couple of switches. The bridge became illuminated in a dull red hue as the ship whirred slowly back to life. “We’ll make it planet-side on emergency power, but we’ll need plenty of repairs that we can’t make alone.”

“Mos Eisley’s got a good mechanic I know,” Sari offered. “Her name’s Peli Motto. If we’re lucky, she’s still in the same bay.”

“Get on the comms with them and request a landing, then.” The Mandalorian nodded to the blinking comms and Sari pressed the button.

“Mos Eisley Tower, this is the Razor Crest. Requesting a landing in Bay 3-5, if it’s open,” she said, releasing the comms just in time before Grogu let out a loud, curious squeal and reached for the buttons. She yanked him quickly out of reach of the control panel. “Nope, that’s not for babies to touch,” she scolded mildly and he slouched in her arms, sulking.

“This is Mos Eisley Tower, we’re tracking you. Bay 3-5 should be clear, go ahead. Over,” the comms crackled in return.

“Copy that,” Sari said once she could press the button again without Grogu’s interference, glancing briefly at the Mandalorian and catching his nod of acknowledgment as he pivoted the ship down towards Tatooine. “Locked in for 3-5 now. Thank you.” She sank back into her seat as she released the comms, hauling Grogu up to peer at his little face in the dim red light. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” she teased.

He chirped back at her indignantly, his little feet kicking wildly in the air.

“Don’t be mean to the kid, Sari,” the Mandalorian said distractedly, focused on bringing the Razor Crest down safely through the planet’s atmosphere.

“Oh, like we haven’t said worse around him.” Sari couldn’t help but grin all the same at the sullen pout on Grogu’s face as she brought him back down against her shoulder to squeeze him in a gentle embrace. “Aw, I’m sorry, bud,” she murmured fondly. “I was only kidding, I still love you.”

Grogu let out a sharp exhale of warm air against her shoulder, still seemingly miffed, but his small arms slid around her neck in return and a sudden wave of affection overwhelmed her. She wasn’t sure if the rush of emotion was his or her own as she settled him more securely against her shoulder, her throat tightening painfully as she rubbed his back absently.

He yawned squeakily, slowly relaxing in her arms under her ministrations, and soon, she could hear soft, breathy snores in her ear as he dozed off once more against her shoulder. She ducked her head to press a kiss against the top of his head, blinking back the sharp sting of tears in her eyes; she really _had_ let him worm into her heart far too easily, if she was getting so emotional about him simply falling asleep on her shoulder.

When she finally dared to look up again from the sleeping child cradled against her, the Mandalorian was watching them, the darkness of his visor giving nothing away as the Razor Crest lowered into the open bay doors.

“What?” she asked defensively and his helmet swung back around to the window in front of them again.

“Nothing.” She couldn’t quite interpret his tone when it was so obviously engineered to be as casually neutral as possible. “We should head into town while repairs are being made. Kid ought to stay on the ship if he’s asleep, no need to drag him out into the heat.”

“I’ll put him down in his hammock before we head out,” she agreed, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing to her feet once the Razor Crest had powered down. She grabbed her backpack of art supplies, slinging it onto her free shoulder.

It wasn’t easy to descend the ladder without jostling Grogu, but Sari successfully made it down while cradling him in one elbow, moving to the sleeping berth and sliding it open to nestle the child among his blankets in the hammock. He rolled over, smacking his lips unconsciously, and she carefully tugged a blanket over him to tuck him in before shutting the sleeping berth door again as the Razor Crest’s ramp lowered behind her.

A laser blast suddenly went off, making her spin around instinctively and grab her own blaster to retaliate, but to her relief, all she saw was a smoking spot on the ground in front of three trembling pit droids and the Mandalorian aiming his blaster at them threateningly.

“Would you knock it off, Mando?” she sighed as she made her way to the edge of the ramp, holstering her blaster again and making sure her hooked blades were strapped securely to her belt. “Pit droids are harmless.”

His helmet angled sharply towards her, but he didn’t respond as he returned his blaster to the holster on his belt.

“Hey!” A mechanic with wild, curly hair ran out of her office, brandishing a wrench in her hand, and Sari relaxed a little at the familiar sight; Peli Motto hadn’t changed one bit. “You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” the Mandalorian told her stiffly.

“Sari, is that you? I thought I recognized your voice on the comms. Didn’t know you were traveling with someone these days.” Peli peered over the Mandalorian’s shoulder, her eyebrows rising in surprise, and Sari lifted a hand to wave briefly before closing the space between them.

“Hi, Peli. Sorry about him.” She jerked a thumb towards the Mandalorian before reaching out a hand to shake Peli’s. “I know it’s a lot to ask for repairs without using your droids, but we’d really appreciate it,” she added.

“Well, let’s take a look,” Peli agreed reluctantly, casting one last skeptical look at the Mandalorian before heading over to the Razor Crest to rap her knuckles against the hull. “Oof,” she said with a grimace, craning her neck to peer up at the ship. “You’ve got a bunch of carbon scoring up top. If I didn't know better, I’d think you were in a shoot-out.”

“We were,” Sari confirmed, shrugging helplessly when Peli shot an incredulous look at her before turning back to her inspections.

“Special tool for that one,” she mumbled to herself as she walked along the length of the Razor Crest. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that.” She paused at a particularly-nasty looking gash in the metal, where fuel was dripping down the side of the ship. “You got a fuel leak?! Look at that, it’s a mess!” She rounded on the Mandalorian and Sari. “How did you even land this thing?”

“Carefully,” the Mandalorian said in a deadpan and Sari elbowed him sharply between the plates of beskar armor on his side. To her disappointment, he didn’t even flinch.

“This is gonna set you back,” Peli warned.

“I have five hundred Imperial credits,” the Mandalorian admitted.

“Eight,” Sari corrected and when he looked at her questioningly, she fished out her small coin purse wordlessly so that he could see it.

“Well, that might cover the hangar and the fuel leak,” Peli hedged, studying the damage of the ship again.

“We’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian offered.

“I’ve heard that before.” Peli rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Peli, you know I’m good for it, at least, and you can trust my friend,” Sari insisted. “I’ll be set up here in town with my sketchbooks, anyway, if you need an extra pair of hands. Although you’ll have to knock the price back down if you want my help,” she added pointedly.

“Oh, you’re drawing today?” Peli cracked a smile at last. “You’re in luck, the market’s got a pretty decent crowd today.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Sari said, relieved.

“Just remember-” the Mandalorian started, but Peli cut him off with an irritable wave of the wrench in her hand.

“No droids, yeah. I heard ya, no need to tell me twice. I’ll rope Sari here in if I need the help.”

“Great, sounds like a plan, thanks, Peli, you’re the best,” Sari said quickly in one rushed breath before they could get on each other’s nerves further, looping her arm through the Mandalorian’s and dragging him out of the hangar bay. To her relief, he actually followed her; she suspected that if he’d planted his feet, it would be like attempting to drag a statue made of beskar. “Why _are_ you so against droids, anyway?” she asked under her breath and he shrugged one shoulder.

“Just don’t like them.”

“Thanks, that really clears things up,” Sari said sardonically.

“You’re welcome,” he answered just as dryly and ignored her elbowing him again as they stepped out into the sandy streets of Mos Eisley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translation(s):
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful  
> Osik: shit (according to mandoa.org, it's actually "dung (impolite)" so we can assume it's a swearword lol)
> 
> Y'all, when I tell you I was tickled pink by some of the comments you guys left on the last chapter, I'm being entirely serious. Thank you so much for your kind words and general squeeing over Din being a complete softie, I'm really glad everyone liked the fluff as much as I did while writing it :D
> 
> Still got a little bit of fluff here at the beginning, but I didn't want to drag out Sorgan too long by adding any extra scenes of their time there, so I'm sort of playing it as if the events of canon happened one after the other for the most part (aside from the occasional couple days in between episode events, or any canon time-skips). Let me know if it starts feeling too rushed, though, and I can always rework the time flow accordingly for future chapters!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari becomes an artist for the day and successfully pulls off a con with Grogu and Peli's help.

“Two hundred.”

“No way, fifty.”

“Fine, one hundred, but that’s the lowest I can go. Cost of labor and all, and childcare products are expensive.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sari protested. “A hundred for _this_?” She held up the baby carrier in her hands; thought the cloth piece with harnesses was sturdy and would easily keep any child from wriggling free, it was hardly worth more than twenty credits, which had been her initial suggestion.

“Do you want to carry your kid around with you or not?” the Twi’lek manning the stall demanded dismissively, already focusing on the next customer meandering through his wares. His original asking price had been three hundred credits, which had been so ludicrous that Sari had had to bite her lip to stop from laughing in his face.

She thought about protesting that the child in question wasn’t actually her kid, but decided against it; she only needed to sell one drawing that day to make up for the purchase.

“Fine, here.” She shoved the necessary credit chips over and the Twi’lek turned back to her, snatching up her payment.

“Pleasure doing business with you, dearie.” He gave her a pleasant smile, as if they hadn’t been arguing for the past five minutes straight.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Sari rolled her eyes as she turned away from the stall and held up the carrier to catch the Mandalorian’s eye as he lingered outside the local cantina, waiting for her.

He looked over the carrier briefly before lifting his hands to sign, _Not bad. How much?_

 _One hundred_ , she signed back with one hand, wrinkling her nose to express her distaste for being conned out of so much as she began to make her way over.

His shoulders tensed briefly at the price, but he shook his head after a moment and signed, _As long as it keeps the kid secure._

“Well, we know he’s a little escape artist, so we’ll see how long it lasts,” Sari answered out loud once she was close enough to him, slinging the carrier onto her back beside her bag of art supplies. “Besides, I can make up for it if I sell at least one drawing. Any luck on your end with finding work?”

“I’ve got something,” the Mandalorian affirmed. “The Guild doesn’t operate out of Tatooine anymore, but I met another hunter inside. He’s meeting me at Bay 3-5 with some speeders.”

He tilted his head briefly towards the hangar they had left the Razor Crest in to silently indicate that Sari should follow him and she obediently fell into step beside him as they headed back to the hangar together.

“What’s the mission?” she asked curiously. “I assume you two have to head out into the desert, no target would hide in town.”

“Somewhere in the Dune Sea,” the Mandalorian confirmed. “Ever heard of Fennec Shand?”

“The Hutt-killer? We’ve met. We had the same target once and she shot him from a mile away and straight through the guy covering him before I could even get my blaster up in time.” Sari couldn’t help but grimace at the memory. “You’re going after _her_? She’s not going to go down easily.”

“That’s what I said,” the Mandalorian agreed wryly. “But this hunter - Toro Calican - he’s a kid. He’s not even in the Guild yet. He said he’d give me all of the reward money if I helped him bring her in, and you know a name like Fennec Shand means a high price on her head.”

“Fennec Shand’s a better sharpshooter than you,” Sari warned. “And that’s saying something, I’ve seen you shoot.”

“Consider me flattered.” The Mandalorian knocked his shoulder lightly against hers and she noticed distractedly that it was the first time he had ever willingly initiated contact with her. “But I’ll be fine.”

“I can tag along,” she offered and he shook his head.

“Don’t leave Mos Eisley if you can avoid it. I’d rather someone I trust stay near the kid, especially now that you’ve got that carrier for him.”

“Aw, well, now _I’m_ flattered,” Sari teased, knocking her shoulder back against the Mandalorian’s before sliding her hand into his to squeeze his fingers briefly. “Be careful?”

“I will,” he promised, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he let go of their intertwined hands as they entered the hangar. “Go check on how the repairs are going, I need to grab a few more things from the ship and check on the kid before Calican shows up.”

Sari headed around the Razor Crest to examine the fuel leak, which Peli had evidently begun re-sealing, but it wasn’t long before the Mandalorian burst back out of the ship, murder in his footsteps.

“Where is he?!” he shouted at the office.

“What happened?!” Sari demanded, hurrying back around the ship to meet him, and he rounded on her.

“Kid’s missing.”

Sari’s heart skipped a beat, but then Peli stepped out of the office, clutching a wailing brown bundle with green ears sticking out.

“Look what you did, you woke him up,” she scolded them, all the while bouncing Grogu in her arms to soothe him. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get him back to sleep? He wandered out here looking for you two.”

“Give him to us,” the Mandalorian ordered, holding a hand out.

“Not so fast,” Peli snapped back, pulling Grogu closer to herself defensively. “You can’t just leave a child all alone like that. You know, you two have an awful lot to learn about raising a young one. I expected better from _you_ , Sari, I thought you said you were good with kids,” she added sharply and Sari flushed, embarrassed.

“In our defense, we haven’t had him that long and we thought he’d stay asleep while we were gone,” she pointed out. “Sorry, Peli.”

“Thank you for looking after him,” the Mandalorian added awkwardly, although it was only because Sari had heard his voice so many times by then that she could hear the hint of panic still lingering in it.

Peli huffed slightly, but seemed mollified by the combined apology and thanks as Grogu sniffled, turning and holding his arms out plaintively to Sari. She readily scooped him out of Peli’s arms, settling him against her shoulder as he pressed his face into her neck, clinging tightly to her.

“See, Mando? He’s fine,” she reassured the Mandalorian as Peli returned to her office. “Crisis averted.”

He finally let the tension drain out of his shoulders as he stepped closer to them, his hand pressing gingerly against Grogu’s back as if to reassure himself that the child was really there. Grogu’s ears perked up at the sudden touch as he tilted his head back to peer at the Mandalorian.

“Easy, kid, it’s just me,” he said quietly and Grogu’s eyebrows furrowed as he shut his eyes tightly. The Mandalorian yanked his hand away like he’d been burned and took a step backwards, alarmed. “Grogu?” he echoed, stunned, and Grogu opened his eyes, beaming widely up at the Mandalorian.

“Told you he’d like it if you called him that,” Sari pointed out, unable to help but feel a little vindicated, but the Mandalorian ignored her, his gaze fixed on the child in her arms.

“That’s really his name,” he said after a long moment, sounding shaken. “You didn’t just make it up.”

“What gave it away?” Sari asked before what he had said registered in her head. “Wait a minute, you _still_ thought I was making it up? You said you believed me!” she said, insulted.

“He just pushed it into my head,” the Mandalorian retorted. “Just like you said he could. How was I supposed to know he could actually do that?”

“Well, now you know I’m not crazy,” Sari said with an easy shrug, ignoring the incredulity radiating off the Mandalorian in waves; it served him right for doubting her in the first place. “Don’t you have a job to get to?”

“What?” His helmet finally tilted back up towards her. “Oh. Right.” He glanced down distractedly at the blaster on one side of his belt and the explosive charges on his other side, making sure all of the weaponry was intact before casting one last wary glance at Grogu and then heading for the hangar door.

Sari followed him with Grogu balanced on her hip to find a young man with dark hair - presumably Toro Calican - waiting outside the hangar, two speeder bikes hovering behind him.

“What do you think, Mando?” he asked as the Mandalorian moved around him to inspect the speeders. “Not too shabby, right? This ain’t Corellia, but they’re the best I could get.” His eyes fell on Sari and he nodded briefly to her. “Ma’am.”

She raised an eyebrow back at him; she didn’t think she had ever been referred to as “ma’am” before by another adult and decided she definitely didn’t like it, nor did she like the suspicious look in his eyes as he glanced her over appraisingly, taking in the blaster in her thigh holster and the hooked blades hanging from her belt.

“Easy, pal, I’m not _that_ old,” she answered dryly.

Calican flushed bright red, tactfully choosing not to respond, and glanced skeptically at Grogu next as he let out a plaintive whimper and reached out his tiny arms for the Mandalorian.

“Not now, bud,” Sari hushed the child, but the Mandalorian’s attention had returned to them again as he closed the space between them, brushing a gloved finger over one of Grogu’s ears briefly.

“See you soon, Grogu,” he promised quietly and Grogu smiled back, clearly pleased that the Mandalorian was finally using his name as the Mandalorian looked up at Sari next. “You’ll be here?”

“I’ll be here,” she confirmed.

“Good. Stay safe.”

“You, too.” Sari was tempted to reach for his hand, but decided against it, noticing Calican’s eyes on them from where he waited by the speeder bikes.

Had they been alone, she suspected the Mandalorian might have taken her hand himself as a gesture of farewell, but he settled for a brief nod before returning to one of the speeders and climbing onto it. Calican took the other and Sari stepped back towards the hangar to give them space as they took off towards the desert.

Grogu let out a soft whine as his dark eyes followed the Mandalorian’s retreating back and Sari bounced him briefly in her arms to settle him.

“He’ll be back soon,” she reassured him as he blinked up at her mournfully. “Come on, let’s try out your new carrier. It’ll be fun, you’ll get to ride around with me at the market.”

Grogu blew a sulky raspberry at her, clearly unconvinced.

* * *

“Four hundred,” Sari said dryly, leaning back in her seat behind the stall she had set up in the market’s main square.

“You’re kidding,” the Twi’lek protested. “I’m the reason you even have that kid riding around with you!” He jabbed a finger at Grogu, who stuck his little tongue out in response from where he sat strapped into the baby carrier hanging from Sari’s shoulders.

“Well, cost of labor and all, and art’s expensive,” Sari answered easily, ruffling Grogu’s wispy hair briefly and making sure not to get charcoal on his skin accidentally.

The Twi’lek sighed heavily. “Look, I’ve only got three hundred on me, can we at least settle for that? It’s my kid’s birthday in a couple days and I haven’t gotten her anything yet.”

“I’ll do it for three,” Sari conceded; she had been charging only two hundred credits for each of the four drawings she had sold so far, but the Twi’lek didn’t need to know that after he had swindled a hundred credits out of her earlier. She wondered what had happened to the money she had given him, anyway, if he was throwing a fit over her prices. “Just let me know what you’d like the subject to be and give me a little while to finish up the sketch. You can pay me half now and half when you pick it up.”

“Deal.” The Twi’lek slid over a hundred and fifty credits and Sari slid them into her coin purse, careful to keep it out of Grogu’s reach as he peered at the purse with interest. “My daughter loves banthas, can’t get enough of petting them whenever we’re out near Tusken territory. Think you could draw one of those as a poster for her room?”

“Sure, I can do that,” Sari agreed, relieved; banthas were straightforward, as far as subjects went. There were even a few wandering around the town that she could use as models. “Come back in about three hours and I’ll have the poster ready for you.”

“Thanks, girl,” the Twi’lek said fervently, his tune entirely changed from the dismissive attitude he had given her earlier. “I owe ya one.”

“Consider us even for the carrier once you pay me in full,” she reassured him and watched him walk away before setting herself to work on the basic sketch of a bantha.

Her wrist was beginning to cramp up after so many drawings in the span of a few hours, so she reached into her backpack to pull out a wrist support glove and slid it on so that she could continue to sketch. Grogu wriggled a little in his carrier, eager to stretch his legs and walk around.

“Nope, no getting out of there anytime soon,” she scolded him gently. “Sorry, bud, I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

He huffed defiantly back up at her.

“I know,” Sari sighed, unable to help but understand his frustration when he was projecting it so clearly. “You’re excited to see the new place and you wanna explore on your own tiny feet, but it’s not safe for you, you know that.”

Grogu sighed long-sufferingly, but subsided as he flopped back against Sari’s chest. She took the opportunity to smudge the charcoal on the page with her thumb purposely, examining the shading effect it had provided for the bantha’s fur approvingly before setting the drawing aside to finish up some of the others she had abandoned to give herself a break.

As she worked, she hummed absently to herself under her breath, which caught Grogu’s attention again as he peered up at her curiously.

“Don’t get used to it,” she warned him when she caught his large eyes fixed on her face. “I can just barely carry a tune. Trust me, if I sang you any lullabies, you’d only have nightmares.”

“Feh,” Grogu retorted, unconvinced, before reaching up one tiny hand plaintively.

Sari bent down obediently to let him brush his palm against her cheek and project an overwhelming wave of warmth and affection to her, just as he had done on the Razor Crest earlier that day.

“I love you, too,” she reassured him, unable to help a faint smile, and he cooed, clearly pleased she had understood his message, before shutting his eyes to press another image into her head.

This time, it was the Mandalorian’s helmet that greeted Sari when she concentrated on the image, his darkened visor fixed on Grogu as he said slowly, his voice deep and rich even through the modulator, “Grogu?”

The responding rush of delight and fondness was enough to make Sari jerk back instinctively as Grogu opened his eyes, startled.

“Mweh?” he asked worriedly, his ears flopping as he tilted his head.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him. “It just startled me for a second.” She smoothed her finger over one of his ears gently. “I’m glad Mando’s using your name now, too,” she reassured him, although she wondered if the Mandalorian had any inkling just how strongly attached Grogu already was to him.

Reluctant to keep dwelling on the thought, she focused back on the sketches in front of her, allowing Grogu to settle in for a nap against her.

* * *

The Mandalorian hadn’t returned by the time Sari closed her stall for the evening and she resigned herself to another day of drawing as she carried Grogu and her art supplies back to the hangar to settle in for the night.

“How’s she looking, Peli?” she called as she entered the hangar and Peli peered down from where she was perched on top of the Razor Crest, a ladder beside her giving away how she had gotten on top of the ship.

“She’s still got plenty of work ahead of her, but she’s getting there,” she answered. “How many drawings did you get done? How’s the little guy?”

“I sold six drawings, got about two thousand credits in total now. Let me know how much more I need to cover repairs.” Sari glanced down at Grogu, who wrinkled his nose in a sullen pout. “He’s probably just cranky because he’s been stuck in the carrier all day and wants to stretch his legs,” she answered Peli’s second question. “I’m gonna head inside and get him some food, but do you need an extra hand out here? My right hand might be out, but the left one’s still good for holding things.” She waved her wrist support-covered hand as proof.

“Go and rest. If I need help, I’ll ask,” Peli said with a goodnatured roll of her eyes.

Sari tossed up the coin purse full of her earnings to Peli, who caught it and emptied it in a neat movement into her own purse before tossing the empty satchel back down.

“You’re in luck, that was just enough to cover everything. Are you doing anything tomorrow for Life Day?” she asked.

“Life Day?” Sari echoed as she looked back up from tucking her coin purse away, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “That’s tomorrow?”

It wasn’t as if many species except Wookiees really celebrated the holiday properly for the tradition that it was, but Sari knew many people who still treated it as an opportunity to trade gifts with family and friends.

“Sure.” Peli blinked at her, bewildered. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I’d kind of lost track of the date. Too much going on lately,” Sari admitted, embarrassed. “I guess we’re not doing anything other than heading back to the market and selling more drawings until Mando gets back. I’d rather we get a fuel refill before we head out, if we can swing it.”

“Well, here.” Peli tossed a few credit chips back down and Sari fumbled to catch them. “Get Bright Eyes something from me tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sari mock-saluted her, grinning, before pocketing the credits as she entered the Razor Crest and shut the ramp behind herself. “What do you think, Grogu?” she asked as she undid the harnesses of the baby carrier and let Grogu out. “Have you ever celebrated Life Day before? You’re apparently fifty years old, surely you must’ve celebrated at least once.”

“Mweh?” He tilted his head curiously back at her as he flopped onto the floor of the ship, sprawling out to stretch his tiny limbs and resembling an odd green starfish.

“I guess that’s a ‘no.’ That’s okay, neither have I,” Sari reassured him, shaking her head fondly as she headed to the refresher to slide off her wrist support glove and wash her hands clean of charcoal dust first; the last thing she needed was to accidentally let Grogu ingest charcoal in any shape or form.

Once her hands were clean, she opened a storage cabinet and pulled out two cans of soup. She knew they could likely get dinner in town, but the less time they spent in Mos Eisley unless absolutely necessary, the better. She opened a can and grabbed a spoon before settling on the floor beside Grogu to spoon some soup into his mouth. He happily accepted the spoon, swallowing the mouthful of soup before opening his mouth for Sari to continue feeding him.

“So what do you want for Life Day?” she offered as she pressed another spoonful of soup into his mouth. “I could get you a toy, I know you don’t have any here on the ship other than the shift knob. Anything in particular you’d like?”

Grogu seemed to ponder the question as he swallowed down each mouthful of soup Sari gave him before pressing his hand to her wrist to push an image into her head. She shut her eyes instinctively to focus on it, realizing Grogu was showing her a stall he had spotted earlier that day, its counter covered with colorful stuffed toys. His eye had been caught in particular by a stuffed doll made to look like a mudhorn and Sari cracked a wry grin as she opened her eyes.

“Ironic, I like it.” She handed him the mostly-empty can so that he could drink down the dregs of the soup on his own. “If they still have that doll tomorrow, I’ll get it for you,” she promised.

Grogu beamed widely at her, bouncing a little in his excitement as he swallowed the last of his soup and handed her the empty can when she held her hand out for it. At least he hadn’t thrown it like he had tried to on Sorgan, she mused as she tossed the can down into the trash chute so that the garbage would be converted back into a tiny bit of fuel for the ship when it eventually powered back up.

“You think Mando would appreciate a present, too?” she asked absently as she opened her own soup and began to sip it straight from the can.

Grogu squeaked back at her and she frowned as she processed the question he had somehow transmitted into her mind without even touching her this time.

“You’re getting awfully good at that,” she told him before addressing his question, “No, I have no idea what he’d want, that’s the problem. You know him, he doesn’t say anything about himself unless absolutely necessary.”

Grogu let out a gusty sigh of agreement before his ears perked up with an idea and he reached out, pressing a hand to Sari’s backpack of art supplies that sat on the floor beside them.

“Draw him something?” Sari guessed, relieved when Grogu nodded. “I guess I could,” she reasoned. “I’d just have to find something to draw that he’d like.”

Already, the image was forming in her head - a memory from two weeks earlier on Sorgan - and she downed the rest of her soup before tossing it into the trash chute and grabbing her sketchbook to begin drawing, ignoring the painful protest from her hand as she gripped the charcoal.

Grogu clambered into her lap as she worked, burbling his approval whenever she tilted the sketchbook up for him to get a better look. He squealed in delight when he recognized the memory attached to the drawing at last and she grinned down at him, relieved that he seemed to like it.

“What do you think? Will Mando like that?” Grogu patted the page fondly and Sari carefully angled it away so that his little fingers wouldn’t smudge the charcoal. “Alright, I’ll keep working on this tonight, then. But right now, it’s time that _you_ went to bed.”

She set down the sketchbook and climbed to her feet, scooping Grogu up to settle him in his hammock. He pouted up at her, clearly wanting to stay awake with her, but she pressed a kiss between his small eyebrows instead of conceding to his demands.

“Go to sleep,” she insisted and he huffed, but his eyes slid shut obediently. “Sweet dreams, Grogu.”

She let the door to the sleeping berth slide shut before taking a seat on the floor of the ship to keep working on the sketch again, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she examined the page before her. She hoped the Mandalorian would appreciate that she’d drawn the event from memory, even if the drawing itself wasn’t perfect. If nothing else, she had had practice drawing his helmet once already, so at least she knew she would get that right.

* * *

“Alright, alright, you can have the doll now,” Sari sighed goodnaturedly as she pressed the mudhorn doll she had just purchased towards the carrier for Grogu to grasp. He gurgled up at her gratefully before burying his fingers into the shaggy faux fur of the doll, clutching it tightly. “Happy Life Day, kiddo,” she said with a chuckle at the sheer delight on Grogu’s face, ruffling his wispy hair gently as she made her way over to her rented stall to set up for another day of drawing.

“- Sari - copy?” The commlink attached to her collar burst to life suddenly, the Mandalorian’s voice recognizable even through the faint signal. Grogu perked up at the sound, reaching up with one hand for the commlink.

“Mando?” Sari pulled the device out of Grogu’s reach and closer to her mouth, startled. “What is it?”

“- been trying - reach - all morning,” he said irritably, the signal crackling with static, but she could luckily make out the gist of what he was saying.

“Hey, don’t blame me if your signal’s bad out in the desert. You’re still breaking up pretty badly,” she retorted, wondering how much of her own response he could hear. “What’s going on?”

“- Shand is dead - Calican -” he answered, but whatever the rest of his sentence had been was lost.

“Okay, I’m gonna guess he double-crossed you, if you’re trying to reach me,” Sari sighed, turning away from the stall again; it didn’t look like it would be a simple Life Day at the market for them anymore. “Where is he now?”

“- took speeder - arrive in town - nightfall,” the Mandalorian’s voice crackled in response. “- coming for the kid - not far behind - won’t beat him back - take the Crest and-”

“I’m not leaving you stranded on Tatooine, Mando, quit trying to be a martyr,” Sari interrupted him. “Besides, I’m working on a plan already. Do you trust me?”

There was a long pause and she wondered if she had lost him entirely before he sighed heavily at last, the sound distorted through the dual speakers of his voice modulator and the commlink.

“I do. Be safe,  mesh’la,” he said, the message coming through clearly for once.

The now-familiar nickname made something in Sari’s chest twist painfully as she swallowed back the lump in her throat, selfishly wishing the Mandalorian was already there with them.

“I will. Hurry back,” she answered once she regained her voice.

When she didn’t get a response, she glanced down at Grogu, who was entirely distracted from his new toy now that he had sensed the urgency of the situation.

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” she told him grimly.

He reached up, patting her cheek soothingly and cooing a reassurance, and she cracked a weary smile.

“Thanks, bud, I needed that.”

She tilted her head to kiss his little palm fondly before setting off for the hangar, grimacing at the thought of asking for yet another favor from Peli. She didn’t doubt that Peli would help her, but she felt guilty enough for asking the woman to perform all of their ship repairs without droids, much less babysit Grogu while Sari hopefully led Toro Calican on a wild goose chase until the Mandalorian caught up to them.

“You’re lucky this kid is so darn cute and the ship repairs are practically done,” Peli sighed when Sari told her of the situation and the plan she had formulated, taking the offered child and nestling him in her arms. He mouthed one ear of the mudhorn doll he was still clutching, his eyes wide and fixed on Sari.

“I’m going to set up post outside the town border and keep an eye out for Calican,” she explained to Peli. “If anyone other than me or Mando comes into the hangar, lock yourself and Grogu in the office and radio me as soon as you can.” She pressed a spare commlink she had found on the Razor Crest into Peli’s waiting hand. “I’ll let you know when we’re on our way back so that you know it’s safe. Grogu’s room in the ship is the sleeping berth on the right, he’s got a little hammock in there you can put him in.”

Grogu whined softly as he reached for Sari with the hand not clutching his toy and she brushed a finger gently against the top of his head.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” she soothed him. “Peli’s gonna take good care of you, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

“Well, just stay safe, you hear?” When Sari looked up, Peli was watching her worriedly. “You don’t wanna leave this little fella all alone in the world, do ya?”

“No, we certainly don’t want that,” Sari agreed grimly, remembering her promise to the Mandalorian back on Sorgan; whatever happened, she would make sure none of them would be left alone again. “We’ll be back as soon as we get Calican out of the picture. But in the meantime, I’ve got an idea to buy us some time until Mando arrives and I’ll need both of you to help me.”

Peli raised an eyebrow curiously as Grogu began to smile at last, seemingly sensing what Sari had in mind.

* * *

“I don’t know why I’m surprised that you’re heavier than Grogu,” Sari said wryly as she glanced down.

The brown fabric bag in her carrier that she had filled with sand didn’t respond - but then again, Sari doubted the false ears that she had fashioned out of paper, painted green, and taped onto the bag could hear her, anyway. The encroaching darkness as evening fell over Tatooine _had_ convinced her for a split moment that Grogu was nestled against her front when she had looked down, though, so she hoped it would trick Toro Calican just as easily, at least temporarily.

She drew her blaster pistol as she crossed the border of Mos Eisley and began to walk towards the desert, careful to keep glancing behind her to make sure the town would remain in her sight. Any moment now, the other bounty hunter would arrive on his speeder and she only had a limited amount of time before he realized she was stalling long enough for the Mandalorian to arrive.

Experimentally, she pressed the button on the remote hidden in her sleeve and the sandbag’s hidden speaker that Peli had installed let out a pre-recorded coo. Grogu had been more than delighted to make all sorts of noises into a recording device for them to embed in the sandbag, evidently thrilled with the deception Sari had planned.

“Well, as far as decoy babies go, you’re not bad,” she joked to the false Grogu as she returned to the present, shaking her head in amusement as she focused back on the desert horizon in front of her, watching the twin suns disappear below it.

As if on schedule, a speeder bike crested over a distant sand dune, racing for Mos Eisley, and Sari took careful aim with her blaster before firing a shot at the speeder’s front wheel. The speeder flipped sideways as the wheel exploded and its rider went flying, crashing into the sand and sputtering as he clambered to his feet and grabbed his gun.

“I guess Mando warned you I was coming, huh?” he called. “You two and that little green kid you were with are wanted by the Guild, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she reassured him, keeping her blaster up as she subtly pressed the button to make the decoy baby gurgle again.

Toro Calican’s eyes dropped to the carrier strapped to Sari’s front and she made a show of angling it away from him, as if it were something to protect.

“I can’t believe you were stupid enough to bring the kid with you to a gunfight,” he said incredulously even as he smirked, clearly pleased with how the situation seemed to be in his favor. “Guess you and Mando aren’t the brilliant bounty hunters Fennec claimed you were, after all.”

“Aw, she said that about us?” Sari asked, her surprise not entirely false; if Fennec Shand had really complimented her, then she must have made a bigger impression on the elite mercenary than she had thought, and the idea of that was a little terrifying. “So what’s the plan, Toro? Take the kid, deliver him to the Guild, a few question marks in between, then profit?”

“Don’t worry, I’m bringing you and the Mandalorian in, too,” Calican reassured her, clicking the safety of his blaster off. “With two Guild traitors in custody thanks to me, I’ll be a _legend_.”

“Trust me, pal, the Guild’s not nearly all it’s cracked up to be,” Sari deadpanned; the more she kept talking, the more time she could buy for the Mandalorian to catch up to them. “You’ll be famous, sure, but you’re compromising a lot of morals to get there. Seriously, you’re fine with handing over a _baby_? Kind of psychopathic there.”

“It’s still a target,” he insisted, “One _you_ stole and ran from the Guild with. I don’t even need it alive, anyway, that’s just a bonus. Once I bring you and Mando in, I’ll be a hero to them with or without the kid.”

“Well, that’s not happening.” Sari tightened her hold on her pistol, but then Calican sent off a shot that went soaring well past her shoulder and she froze, bewildered; his aim couldn’t possibly be that terrible, if he had been aiming to get into the Guild.

Calican was apparently smarter and a better shot than he’d seemed at first; he took advantage of Sari’s shock to aim directly at the decoy baby and fire a laser blast that hit the bag and exploded it into a cloud of sand and rough fabric. She gasped as the impact threw her back against the ground, a bruise likely forming where the sandbag had slammed back into her ribcage hard enough to knock the wind out of her right as it had exploded.

“Sari!” The Mandalorian practically flew into view as he jumped off the dewback he’d ridden back from the desert on and grabbed his blaster to shoot the startled Calican squarely in the chest. The dewback let out a startled noise at the sound of the blaster firing, taking back off towards the desert and vanishing into the darkness.

Calican collapsed, dead, and the Mandalorian stumbled across the distance between himself and Sari, dropping to his knees at her side as his gloved fingers frantically felt around the remnants of the decoy child.

“The kid,” he breathed, sounding horrified.

“Fake baby,” she rasped a brief explanation as she caught her breath, pushing herself up onto her elbows and brushing sand off herself with a grimace. She _hated_ sand; it was coarse and rough and got everywhere. She suspected she’d be finding sand in her clothes for weeks even after they left Tatooine.

“What?” The Mandalorian glanced up at her; even through his expressionless helmet, she could sense his panicked bewilderment.

“The dumbass shot a bag full of sand Peli and I made up to look like Grogu.” Sari gestured to the tattered, charred remnants of a green paper ear hanging limply from one of the carrier’s harnesses and the Mandalorian dropped his gaze to the carrier again, finally realizing that there had never really been a child present.

“Grogu’s safe?” He sounded a little like he’d been hit over the head as he sat back on the sand numbly.

“Of course. Did you actually think I’d brought him to a gunfight?” Sari pointed out, grinning at his genuine confusion. “And here I thought you said you trusted me.”

“I do.” To his credit, he sounded chagrined. “Where is he?”

“Back at the hangar with Peli. I left him with her as soon as you warned me over the comms. We even had him record some fake sounds for the decoy baby to really sell the illusion. Watch.”

Sari pressed the button hidden in her sleeve, earning a muffled, tinny giggle from somewhere in the sand where the hidden speaker had fallen.

“Kid’s a real prankster at heart, he was having a blast the whole time,” she added with a wry grin and the Mandalorian let out a breathless, disbelieving chuckle of relief before his helmet fell to her front again.

“Did he hurt you?” Before Sari knew it, he was cupping her face in both hands, turning her head carefully both ways to inspect it for any injuries, and it was all she could do not to lean into the warm touch. His fingers fell to the carrier again, presumably to feel for a possible injury behind it, and she caught his hands with her own, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “All I did was stall him long enough for you to show up. Admittedly, I didn’t expect him to actually shoot me, but the sandbag took the full impact of the blast. I’m _fine_ , Mando.”

He stared at their intertwined hands for a long moment before letting a slow, shaky exhale escape and then yanking her roughly towards him. She just barely remembered to tilt her head down in time in order to avoid accidentally smashing her nose against his beskar chest plate, pressing her forehead against his shoulder instead as his arms slid around her.

“I saw him shoot you and I thought-” His voice seemed to fail him, unable to complete the sentence, and Sari slipped her arms around him in return impulsively.

“I know,” she said quietly, shutting her eyes despite herself as one of his hands cradled the back of her head gingerly, keeping her close. “But I’m okay, really. You’re not getting rid of me _that_ easily.”

She had hoped the joke would make him laugh again, but he only tightened his hold on her, as if afraid she would vanish if he loosened his grip.

“Are _you_ okay?” she asked after a moment, deciding not to bother moving back just yet as she leaned against him for just a little longer. “What even happened out there?”

“I’m fine,” he answered roughly before launching into the explanation, “Fennec Shand took my speeder out and Calican snuck up on her, distracted her enough for me to get cuffs on her. While I went to get a dewback so we could bring her back to town, she must have convinced him we were better targets than her. He shot her and left her for dead before he stole the speeder and came back to town for you and Grogu.”

“Speaking of whom-” Sari reluctantly pulled out of the Mandalorian’s embrace and took the commlink out of her pocket, pressing it. “Peli, the situation’s clear. How’s Grogu doing?”

“Take a listen for yourself,” Peli answered dryly and Sari watched the last of the tension drain from the Mandalorian’s shoulders as a distant peal of familiar laughter amidst loud clanging reached them. “He’s playing with some spare parts,” Peli added with a chuckle.

“We’re on our way back now,” Sari reassured her. “Thanks a lot.”

She clicked off the commlink, tucking it into her pocket before climbing to her feet and holding her hand out wordlessly for the Mandalorian to take. He slipped his hand into hers, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

“How’s the Crest?” he asked.

“She’s all fixed up,” Sari reassured him. “I settled up with Peli, thanks to the drawings I sold, so we’re in the clear to head out.”

“Good.” The Mandalorian crossed the distance to Toro Calican’s dead body, reaching into his coat and pulling out a coin purse to examine its contents. It was clearly heavy, the stacks of credit chips inside nearly bulging through the fabric of the purse.

“How much is in there?” Sari demanded, eyebrows shooting up as the Mandalorian pocketed the coin purse and returned to her side.

“A few thousand, enough for a fuel refill,” he answered vaguely. “Ready to head back?”

“More than ready,” she agreed and he slid his hand back into hers as they began to walk back to Mos Eisley together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translation(s):
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful
> 
> Ayy, Din finally knows Grogu's name and that Sari didn't just make it up, lol. I like to think Grogu was only able to reach him for a split second while his guard's down, so it's not going to be a regular occurrence, but Grogu's communication powers are definitely growing stronger with the practice he's getting while "talking" to Sari.
> 
> I'm playing it fast and loose with some of the prices in this chapter since I was getting mixed results from Google for how much a credit is actually worth in Star Wars canon (please correct me if anybody knows!) and also messed with a little bit of the timeline with how fast Din got back to Mos Eisley, but I figured since it took them basically a day to reach where Fennec Shand was hiding, it would take about the same time for them to get back, even if Toro had a speeder-bike and Din had only a dewback (especially since I figured it wouldn't've taken Din long to realize what Toro did and take off after him).
> 
> I also wanted to give Sari a break from tagging along on the canon events of each episode in this one, so she gets to be an honest artist in this chapter for a bit and hang out with her kid. :) I thought about putting Grogu on one of those backpack-leashes before I decided the baby carrier would at least be a little less demeaning for him lol.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari and Grogu start telepathy practice, much to Din's dismay, and Din's forced to reach out to an old contact for work.

“Bwah,” the Child - Grogu, Din reminded himself pointedly; he really _did_ have a name, after all - said cheerfully as he clambered unceremoniously onto the bridge, holding up a stuffed toy for Din to inspect.

“What is that?” he asked, holding his hand out expectantly, and Grogu deposited the toy into it, reaching for the mysteriously-unscrewed shift knob to roll it around in his little hands instead. “Where did you get this?” Din demanded when he realized he was holding a miniature mudhorn, the creature’s shaggy fur and massive horn unmistakeable.

“If you’re talking about the doll, I got it for him at the market while you were gone. He specifically asked for the mudhorn because he’s apparently got a sense of humor,” Sari called from the main corridor below where she had been cleaning the sand out of her clothes and Din heard her climbing the ladder only a moment later, emerging with a folded page from her sketchbook clutched in her hand. “And before you complain about spending money, it’s his Life Day present,” she added.

“It’s Life Day?” Din mentally checked the date and realized she was right as he passed the stuffed mudhorn toy back to Grogu, who ignored it in favor of the shift knob.

“Oh, good, I’m not the only one who lost track of the date,” Sari said, clearly relieved, as she held out the piece of paper in her hand. “I figured unless you told me what you liked, I wouldn’t be able to get you anything better,” she added and Din took the paper, bewildered.

“You didn’t have to get me any-” He broke off when he unfolded the paper, staring at the charcoal drawing on it.

It was a seemingly-perfect replica of himself leaning against a wall, helmet tilted down towards Grogu nestled in his lap, the child fast asleep with his large eyes closed and one tiny hand grasping loosely at Din’s gloved thumb. Din presumed he himself was asleep in the image as well, his shoulders slumped and his guard obviously down in a way he’d never seen in his own reflection before.

“When did you draw this?” he asked, careful to keep his voice as even as possible; he was sure he had already exceeded his emotional quota for the week with the near-breakdown he had had in the desert in front of Sari when he had seen her collapse after Toro Calican had shot her.

The woman in question flushed slightly as she scooped Grogu up to take her seat in the co-pilot’s chair before settling the child in her lap.

“Last night while you were gone, but it was from when I caught you two napping together one day while we were still on Sorgan,” she explained, all the while plucking the shift knob out of the child’s grasp and ignoring his whine of protest as she screwed the knob back into place. Grogu huffed a little, but gave up as he finally picked up the stuffed mudhorn toy again and chewed on its ear instead.

“I’m starting to think you have a photographic memory,” Din pointed out dryly as he dropped his gaze back to the sketch, recalling the incident two weeks earlier.

He hadn’t expected Grogu to fall asleep on him, but the child had been so worn out from running around with the village children that he had clambered into Din’s lap without warning and promptly passed out before Din had even had a chance to deposit him in the crib. Unable to move without waking Grogu, Din had reluctantly dozed off himself for a rare nap, giving into the lazy afternoon humidity of Sorgan and the comforting weight of the kid curled up against him. He had no idea that Sari had even seen them that day, much less memorized the sight well enough to capture it on paper weeks later.

“I mean, I can always draw something else if you don’t like it, or I can just get something from another market when we stop next, or-”

“It’s perfect,  mesh’la,” Din cut off Sari’s increasingly-frantic rambling.

He wondered if he would ever gather enough courage to tell her what the word really meant in Mando’a; he doubted it. It was mortifying enough that it had been a drunken slip brought on by one cup of spotchka and that he had had to cover it up with a false translation for the word, much less even consider telling her what it actually meant. He couldn’t remember ever having spoken Mando’a outside the covert before, anyway, which only served to make it all the more embarrassing.

Sari was frozen in surprise when he looked back up at her at last, her mouth still half-open; even with the dumbfounded expression on her face, she lived up to his nickname for her.

“It…is?” she echoed tentatively.

“It is,” he confirmed, making sure to carefully fold the page and tuck it under the console of the Razor Crest for safekeeping before flipping a few switches on the control panel.

Even out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blindingly-bright smile on Sari’s face as she reached for the lever to steady the Razor Crest. He forced his gaze forward again, purposely avoiding the temptation to steal another peek at her smile as he focused on getting the ship into the air and out of Tatooine's atmosphere.

“No, Grogu, you can’t have the shift knob back, I literally got you a toy so you could play with it instead of ship parts,” Sari sighed long-sufferingly once they were out in hyperspace and Din glanced at her in confusion; Grogu hadn’t made so much as a peep since they had taken off. Catching his gaze, she shook her head wearily. “I should’ve mentioned sooner, he’s been getting better at communicating. The bad news is that it’s not through signs like I’d hoped.”

“That telepathy stuff again?” Din guessed, grimacing instinctively beneath his helmet.

The sensation of Grogu’s name being pushed into his head in the brief moment he had let his guard down had shaken him so badly since it had happened that he suspected it was why Toro Calican had given him the slip so easily; he didn’t like being caught off-balance the way Grogu’s powers had left him feeling.

“If it makes you feel better, he seems to prefer trying it with me over you,” Sari offered.

“It doesn’t.” Din almost wished he didn’t have his helmet on so that he could rub his eyes, exhausted as they were. “The thought of him reaching into our heads like that is-”

“Unnerving? Weird? Invasive?” Sari guessed wryly. “You can stop me whenever one fits.”

“No, all of those fit well enough,” Din agreed.

“I don’t think he means anything bad by it,” she insisted. “It’s just his best way of trying to tell us something. He can’t really use many Basic signs or even finger-spell that well without five fingers, and baby signs can only get him so far.”

Grogu burbled up at Sari plaintively, showing her his three-fingered hands in an attempt to demonstrate his limited capacity for signing.

“I know, baby, you’re trying your best. No one’s blaming you,” she reassured him.

Din didn’t want it to, but the fact that Sari had understood the child so easily sent a disturbing chill down his spine. She seemed oblivious to his discomfort, but Grogu noticed it instantly, his large, dark eyes turning in Din’s direction as he held his small arms out.

Ignoring the instinctive urge to acquiesce to the silent demand, Din pushed himself to his feet impulsively. “I’m going down to get some sleep.”

Sari looked up, distracted from nestling Grogu back into the carrier still harnessed around her front. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired, that’s all.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but as Din watched Sari’s eyebrows furrow in concern, he realized belatedly that he had never really left her in charge of the Razor Crest before. “Keep the ship circling a couple parsecs out from Tatooine until I’m back and we can figure out where to go next.”

“Okay.” She seemed unconvinced, but conceded with a small one-shouldered shrug. “We’ll be here.”

“Thanks.” Had Sari been a member of his clan, Din might have been tempted to risk sliding his helmet up just enough to press his lips to the top of her head as he passed her seat - but he had no clan to speak of, and so instead he squeezed her shoulder briefly in passing on his way to the ladder.

* * *

“Alright, I know Grogu’s powers freak you out, but I want to try something,” Sari suggested and the Mandalorian’s helmet whipped around from the pilot’s seat so fast that she was briefly worried she’d given him whiplash.

It had been several hours since they had left Tatooine - perhaps closer to half a day, if Sari’s internal clock was right - but the Mandalorian still seemed on edge from the earlier demonstration of Grogu’s telepathy and Sari doubted he had actually slept for more than an hour or two, based on the weary set to his shoulders.

“What is it?” he asked warily.

“I’m gonna leave him here on the bridge with you and head downstairs,” she explained as she scooped Grogu off her lap, passing him over to the Mandalorian. “And I want him to try and call me telepathically. If he’s not cooperating, you’re going to have to keep him on track.”

“What’s that going to accomplish?” The Mandalorian sounded suspicious, and Sari couldn’t really blame him; the thought of Grogu pressing thoughts into her head, although she’d begun to grow used to it, was still somewhat strange and terrifying.

“Well, what if he needs us and neither of us are nearby?” she pointed out. “At least until he learns to talk well enough to handle a commlink, we can’t exactly know if he’s in trouble otherwise.”

The Mandalorian sighed heavily, settling Grogu on his knee. “You’re not wrong, but I don’t like it.”

“Relax, I’ll make sure he only does it to me,” Sari reassured him before glancing down at Grogu, who blinked up at them curiously. “You got that, bud? No poking around in Mando’s head because it makes him uncomfortable. You can reach out to me, though, okay?”

He wrinkled his nose, but settled into the Mandalorian’s grasp, nodding his little head once as he chirped in agreement to the terms.

“Good,” Sari said, relieved. “I’m gonna keep moving further and further away until I reach the other end of the ship, just try and call me back to the bridge when I ask you to.” She slid down the ladder, waiting at the bottom rung as she said loudly enough for them to hear, “Okay, ready when you are!”

She waited for a moment, but there was no familiar press against the corners of her mind, and the Mandalorian let out another sigh.

“He’s distracted with the shift knob again, hang on.” With growing amusement, Sari listened to him attempt to wrestle the shift knob out of Grogu’s grasp, all the while scolding, “Pay attention, kid, we’re trying to test something important here.”

Grogu blew a raspberry at him in retaliation, but then Sari felt a distant tug somewhere in the back of her mind and a wave of longing for her to return to the bridge.

“Okay, I can tell you’re calling me,” she called up the ladder before taking several steps back. “Try again?”

A loud thump answered her as the Mandalorian fumbled with Grogu suddenly.

“Stop that,” he reprimanded and Grogu screeched in protest.

“What’s going on up there?” Sari asked, unable to help but grin despite herself.

“He’s trying to get down to the ladder,” the Mandalorian explained wearily. “I think he wants to get to you himself.”

“Stay where you are, Grogu,” Sari said sharply and Grogu whined loudly. “Nope, you have to call me or I won’t come back up,” she warned.

After a moment, she felt the familiar tug again and took a few steps back until she was pressed against the closed ramp of the Razor Crest.

“One more time?” she requested and the resulting tug was faint, but she conceded and finally followed it back to the ladder. “Great job,” she said emphatically when she made it up to the bridge again.

Grogu’s eyes had been scrunched shut in concentration, but he opened his eyes again when he heard Sari’s voice with a gurgle of relief, holding his little arms out to be picked up, and she scooped him up to squeeze him in a tight embrace.

“You did so well, I’m really proud of you,” she praised him and he beamed back at her widely before reaching up to brush his palm over her cheek. “No, we’re done,” she answered the silent question. “I just wanted to see how far you could reach me from. I made it all the way to the ramp,” she added to the Mandalorian, who was watching them with what Sari could only assume was some level of trepidation, with how tense every muscle in his body seemed to be. “It was faint, but I could still hear him calling me. If we can find some space to test it over some more distance, we could probably make the connection stronger.”

Grogu settled in against her shoulder for a nap, clearly drained from the mental exercise, and she patted his back soothingly until he dozed off.

“You’re practically burning a hole in the side of my head,” she told the Mandalorian over the child’s head and he quickly turned his gaze forward again.

“I’m out of my element here,” he confessed.

“We both are,” she reminded him.

“You don’t show it.” He looked back at her and though she couldn’t see the expression on his face, she could sense his wariness all the same. “You make it look so easy that sometimes it makes me wonder if you’re like him.”

“What, you think I can do all that weird magic stuff, too?” Sari rolled her eyes. “If I could do anything like what Grogu can, it would’ve saved me plenty of trouble in my life. Trust me, Mando, I’m nothing special.”

He stared at her for so long that she wondered for a brief moment if she had broken him, but he finally exhaled quietly and turned away, deciding not to argue whatever point he had made in his own head.

“Calican’s money won’t last us long after that fuel refill,” he said, effectively changing the subject. “I’m going to have to reach out to an old contact, see if he’s got any jobs lined up. Put the kid down in his hammock while I make the call?”

“I will.” Sari decided not to dwell too much on their earlier conversation, climbing back down the ladder carefully - she was getting better at carrying Grogu down without accidentally waking him up - before nestling him in his hammock carefully.

As an afterthought, she tucked the stuffed mudhorn toy laying in the hammock into his arms and he clutched it, a sleepy smile spreading across his unconscious face. She could hear the Mandalorian speaking quietly to someone over the communication channel as she lingered by the sleeping berth to make sure Grogu remained asleep, rocking the hammock absently with one hand.

It made no sense for her to be anything like Grogu - she hadn’t been the only one he had communicated telepathically with, after all - but then again, he had had to struggle a far greater deal to reach out to the Mandalorian, and had only succeeded when the Mandalorian had briefly let his guard down. Perhaps it only meant Sari had much further to go in regards to her own mental wards, or maybe she was more easily susceptible to whatever Grogu was doing.

She distinctly refused to consider the notion that it was anything more than that; she would have _had_ to know if there was anything distinctly different about herself, like having secret mind powers.

“Sari?” the Mandalorian called down to her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“I’m coming,” she called back, letting the sleeping berth door slide shut after her as she left Grogu to his nap and climbed back up onto the bridge.

“Good news, my contact has a job for us,” the Mandalorian said as Sari settled back into the co-pilot’s chair beside him. “The space station he’s set up in isn’t far from here, maybe a few hours’ flight.”

“Sounds like a plan, then,” she agreed.

* * *

Din hadn’t expected to go crawling back to Ranzar Malk anytime soon for a job, and yet he was secretly a little relieved to hear the other man’s gruff voice as he and Sari made their way through the space station’s hangar.

“Mando, that you under that bucket?” Din turned to find Ran behind him, his large beard unable to hide the smile on his face as he held out a hand.

“Ran,” Din greeted him, shaking his hand briefly. “This is Sari, she works with me these days,” he added with a brief tilt of his head towards Sari, who nodded politely back to Ran, but remained silent. Din decided that was perhaps for the best; the less Ran knew about her, the better. He may have known Ran since he had first started out as a bounty hunter, but he didn’t trust the other man as far as he could throw him.

Ran studied Sari’s face just long enough to make her shift slightly, clearly uncomfortable.

“Is there a problem?” Din asked warily.

“Problem?” Ran blinked, distracted as he glanced back up. “No, not at all. Your girl just looks awfully familiar, that’s all.”

“We’ve never met,” Sari pointed out, a furrow appearing between her eyebrows as Din glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; he was curious if she would correct Ran that she wasn’t his girl. “Maybe you’re mistaken?” She seemed either happy to let the implication slide or determined not to address and call attention to it.

“I never forget a face, girlie,” Ran told her dryly. “Must’ve been thirty-some-odd years ago, but I know I’ve seen eyes like yours before. Sari, you said her name was?” he addressed Din, who nodded once. “Wouldn’t happen to be short for Sarika, would it?” he added to Sari.

Din wondered why she had only given him a nickname when she had first introduced herself, but when he looked at her for her response, he realized she had frozen beside him, her face pale.

“It’s not short for anything,” she said carefully after a moment and it was only because he’d been traveling with her as long as he had so far that he knew she was deeply shaken; had she not known her own full name? “My name’s just Sari.”

“Hmm.” Ran eyed her for one more moment before shaking his head dismissively. “Well, anyway, I was surprised to get that call from you, Mando.” Din turned back to him, although he didn’t miss how Sari swallowed and pressed in a little closer to his side instinctively. “‘Cause, you know, I hear things,” Ran added, a familiar hint of shrewdness in his voice, “Like, maybe how things between you and the Guild aren’t so good these days.”

“I’ll be fine,” Din answered, keeping his tone even enough to dismiss Ran’s concerns, and it succeeded as the other man shrugged one shoulder.

“Well, you know the policy. No questions. And you, my friend, are welcome back here anytime.”

“So what’s the job?” Din asked and Ran tilted his head to gesture for them to follow, so they set off across the catwalk above the rest of the hangar.

“One of our associates ran afoul of some competitors and got himself caught. So I’m putting together a crew to spring him. It’s a five-person job, I got four. I guess your girl makes it six, but an extra pair of hands is no big deal. All I really need is the ride, and you brought it.”

Din stopped in his tracks and ignored Sari walking straight into his back, having not expected him to stop.

“Sorry,” she apologized, sounding flustered, but he barely heard her.

“The ship wasn’t part of the deal.”

Ran shrugged, turning to face him again. “Well, the Crest is the only reason I let you back in here.” When Din remained silent, letting his expressionless helmet show his disapproval for him, Ran raised an eyebrow. “What’s that look? Is that gratitude, Mando? I think it is.” He grinned cheerfully before heading down a set of stairs to another part of the hangar.

“Nice friend you’ve got there,” Sari muttered behind Din and he reached back blindly to find her hand and lace their fingers together, although he wasn’t really sure if he was reassuring her or himself. “Any chance he mixed me up with someone else?” she added under her breath as they took the stairs down to follow Ran.

“Unlikely,” he admitted. “His memory’s nearly perfect. He could tell you something that happened decades ago without missing a single detail. If he says he’s seen you before, he knows exactly when and where. He’s just keeping it to himself.” He glanced across at her to find that she was still pale, her lower lip between her teeth as she chewed it anxiously. “Are you sure you two have never met? Have you ever heard the name ‘Sarika’ before?”

“Only in dreams,” she admitted and he didn’t have enough time to unpack that cryptic statement before she added, “And I can’t imagine how I would have met him before. I’m thirty-six years old. So if it really was around thirty years ago like he said, I had to have been six at most.”

“Or maybe you were three.” Din stopped at the foot of the stairs as the theory hit him like a moving speeder. “Like the same age Omera said you were when they found you on Sorgan.”

Sari stared at him, her hazel eyes wide and stunned, before she shook her head dismissively.

“This isn’t the time for that,” she said, although she sounded unconvinced.

“Later,” he agreed before releasing her hand reluctantly; the last thing he needed was to expose some kind of weakness for Ran to exploit.

“You’ve never told me how old _you_ were,” Sari pointed out absently as they headed across the hangar to catch up to Ran.

“Forty,” Din supplied shortly and she peered up at his visor as if attempting to see through it.

“Only four years older than me, huh?” She cracked a smile at last, though he could see the pensiveness still lingering in her expression. “I’ll add it to the _very_ short list of things I know about you.”

He felt a twinge of regret that the list was so short as he knocked the back of his hand briefly against hers in a silent apology. Her smile widened a little, a wordless acceptance of the apology as she brushed her hand back against his.

“Hey, Mayfeld!” Ran’s voice brought Din’s attention back to the situation at hand as he and Sari caught up to the other man, who had waved a third bald man over. “This is Mando. The guy I was telling you about. We used to do jobs way back when.”

“This is the guy?” Mayfeld glanced Din over and he supplied a short nod, taking in the other man’s blaster pistols holstered on his belt and the droid arm emerging from the backpack he wore, also outfitted with a blaster.

“Yeah, we were all young, trying to make a name for ourselves,” Ran explained. Din could feel Sari’s eyes on the side of his helmet, but kept his gaze fixed firmly on Ran instead. “Yeah, but running with a Mandalorian, that was…” Ran chuckled. “That brought us some reputation.” Din purposely ignored the way his skin crawled at the memories the conversation was bringing up.

“What did he get out of it?” Mayfeld asked suspiciously.

“I asked him that one time. You remember what you said, Mando?” Din ignored the elbow Ran dug into his side; it hardly felt as sincere as when Sari had done it back on Tatooine. “Target practice.” Ran grinned widely at Sari, clearly trying to get a rise out of her. “That’s right, girlie, he really said target practice.”

To Din’s relief, when he stole a glance at Sari to gauge her response, he found none; her face was startlingly impassive for someone who had been wearing her emotions so openly on her sleeve only a minute earlier.

“Man, we did some crazy stuff, didn’t we?” Ran guffawed.

“That was a long time ago,” Din answered stiffly, the words aimed just as much at Sari as they were at Ran.

Her expression remained unreadable enough to make him proud, but he noticed her left hand shifting subtly at her side to quickly finger-spell, “B-R-E-A-T-H-E.” He let out a quiet breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, grateful that she didn’t seem to take offense to the pointed jibes so far.

Mayfeld had noticed the exchange and Din felt a brief stab of panic that the other man understood signs, but he only squinted at Sari suspiciously before asking bluntly, “Something you wanna share with the class? What’s the matter, you mute or something?”

“Or something,” Sari said out loud, giving Mayfeld a placid smile devoid of any indication as to what she was actually thinking, and Ran snorted with laughter, clapping her shoulder hard enough to make her wince slightly.

“Pretty _and_ funny. Sure know how to pick ‘em, Mando. Sarika here’s a real gem.”

“Just Sari,” she corrected, only the slightest hint of a furrow between her eyebrows giving away her distaste for her full name, and for once, Din hoped she really _did_ have mind powers like Grogu so that she could pick up on all of the silent apologies he was projecting towards her.

“Well, I don’t go out anymore. You understand? So, uh, Mayfeld, he’s gonna run point on this job. If he says it, it’s like it’s coming from me.” Ran turned to Din again, ignoring Sari. “You good with that?”

“You tell me,” Din said as he tilted his helmet towards Mayfeld, who pursed his lips irritably in response.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” Ran chuckled, clapping Din’s shoulder next, and Din did his best not to shrug off the hand instinctively.

“Well, things have changed around here,” Mayfeld snapped, shouldering past them.

“Mayfeld’s one of the best trigger men I’ve ever seen,” Ran explained, adding conspiratorially under his breath, “Former Imperial sharpshooter.”

“Well, that’s not saying much,” Sari deadpanned, beating Din to it, and he couldn’t help but crack a brief smile under his helmet, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“I wasn’t a Stormtrooper, wise-ass,” Mayfeld retorted over his shoulder and Sari raised an eyebrow at his retreating back, startled by the open hostility.

“Don’t take long, does it?” Ran sighed goodnaturedly, gesturing for them to follow him back to the Razor Crest.

“You okay?” Din managed to whisper to Sari once they fell into step beside each other a few feet behind Ran.

“I’m fine, I’ve heard worse,” she reassured him, but her eyebrows were knitted together again now that no one else was looking.

“You still seem upset,” he pointed out.

“I’m thinking about Grogu,” she confessed, chewing her lip anxiously. “If we’re taking the Crest out, we can’t hide him for long.”

He grimaced behind his visor, realizing Sari was likely right; they wouldn’t be able to conceal Grogu from a team of people roaming around the ship.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised quietly.

“I can’t believe that thing can fly. Looks like a Canto Bight slot machine,” Mayfeld said skeptically ahead of them.

Din returned his attention to where the other man was eyeing the Razor Crest ahead of them with distaste and couldn’t help but feel offended on behalf of his ship.

“Get over here, Mando, let me introduce you to the rest of the team.” Mayfeld waved him over and he reluctantly left Sari’s side to join the other man. “The good-looking fella over there with the horns, his name’s Burg. This may surprise you, but he’s the muscle.” Mayfeld pointed out the large red-skinned Devaronian with two sharp-looking horns growing from his scalp, who dropped a crate and made his way over.

Din decided not to respond as Burg approached him, beady eyes glancing over him briefly.

“So this is a Mandalorian. I thought they’d be bigger.” He smirked before shouldering sharply past Din, and he stamped down the instinctive spike of anger that accompanied the jostling of his shoulder with practiced ease.

“Droid’s name is Zero,” Mayfeld added as he pointed to the droid walking past them and Din grimaced inwardly at the thought of a droid accompanying them on the mission even as he turned to Ran.

“You said you had four,” he pointed out and Ran glanced over Din’s shoulder expectantly.

“He does.” Din shut his eyes in a silent wince at the familiar voice before he turned to see the one person he had hoped wouldn’t still be running with the old crew. “Hello, Mando,” the purple-skinned Twi’lek said mock-pleasantly, twirling a small dagger between her fingers.

“Xi’an,” he said warily.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand?” Xi’an lunged forward, the blade stopping just short of Din’s throat, and years of training were all that kept him from flinching automatically. He could see Sari over Xi’an’s shoulder, frozen in place as she hesitated to intervene. Her hand drifted to one of the hooked blades at her hip as her eyes darted between the two of them cautiously.

“Nice to see you, too,” he told Xi’an instead of reassuring Sari it was alright like he wanted to.

“I missed you,” Xi’an chuckled, tracing the tip of her dagger along the edge of his beskar chest plate as if she was imagining stabbing straight through it; she probably was, knowing her. “This is shiny. You wear it well.” She smiled sweetly back up at Din, who was careful not to react; he knew better than to give her any kind of leverage over him.

“Do we need to leave the room or something?” Mayfeld joked behind them.

“Well, Xi’an’s been a little heartbroken since Mando left our group,” Ran added in explanation and Din glanced instinctively at Sari out of the corner of his eye.

Her expression was back to the blank slate it had been earlier as she relaxed again, her hand leaving the handle of her blade, and he almost wished there was _something_ he could read from her face just to know what she was thinking.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but he’s got a new girl now,” Mayfeld pointed out.

“Hey, I never claimed to be anyone’s anything, you all just decided to assume,” Sari said casually as she finally closed the space between them. To her credit, it was perhaps the most composed Din had ever seen anyone in the face of the deadly stare Xi’an was now giving her. “Hi, I’m Sari,” she added cheerfully as she held out her hand and Din wondered if he should warn her to retract it before Xi’an cut off a few of her fingers.

Before he could make his decision, Xi’an reached out with her free hand and grasped Sari’s fingers in a handshake, although Sari admittedly winced as Xi’an’s grip tightened painfully on her hand.

“Let her go, Xi’an,” Din blurted out before he could stop himself and Xi’an glanced back up at him, her expression already shifting into something calculating as she slowly released Sari’s hand.

“Lucky for you, I’m all business now.” She tapped the edge of her dagger once more against Din’s chest plate and he ignored her. “I learned from the best, after all.” She winked before sauntering past him towards the Razor Crest.

“Why am I not surprised to find out that you have a crazy ex?” Sari deadpanned under her breath so that only Din could hear, flexing her fingers ruefully.

“She’s not - we weren’t -” Din began, not even sure how to finish the sentences he’d started, but Sari was already rolling her eyes back at him.

“Relax, I don’t need you to justify anything to me.” A smile had begun to tug at her lips again, though, and he found himself breathing a little easier instinctively at the sight. “That’s one more for the list, though.”

“You know, at some point, I’m going to need to hear this list you’re compiling about me,” he pointed out and Sari grinned cheekily.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translation(s):
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful
> 
> Oh? Is this more Sari-backstory I'm sprinkling in here?
> 
> I have no idea why this was the episode that embedded itself in my head as the one that needed lots of foreshadowing as to who and what Sari is, but it ended up being this one even before I actually started writing this fic lol. Expect more revelations over the next few chapters!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter in the meantime. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari, Din, and their temporary team stage an actual prison break and Sari does not like having these particular feelings, thank you very much.

Sari couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so wrong-footed, but it certainly hadn’t been anytime recently. The thought of anyone other than herself, Grogu, or the Mandalorian in the Razor Crest was unnerving and alien to her, and it didn’t help that she didn’t particularly like any of their new companions as she watched them file up the ramp one by one.

She brushed a stray lock of hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear as she prepared to head inside once she saw the Mandalorian enter the ship after Xi’an, but was stopped by a rough hand grabbing her shoulder.

“No one mentioned you were an Imp,” Mayfeld snarled.

“What?” Sari blinked back at him, bewildered. “I’m not.”

“Then what the hell is ‘SD-523?’” He jabbed a finger sharply at the right side of her head and she suddenly remembered the tattoo curving over her ear; sometimes, she went months or even years without thinking about the numbers, with how little she knew about what they meant.

“I don’t know, I’ve always had that tattoo,” she said, attempting to take a step back, but he tightened his hold on her shoulder to the point where she was sure it would bruise later.

“That’s an operating number,” he told her, “‘SD’ means ‘science division.’ You some kinda Imperial lab rat?”

“I’m not now nor have I ever been an Imperial anything,” she retorted, finally yanking her shoulder out of his grasp and trying not to let the accusation rattle her as much as it did. “I don’t know where the tattoo came from. I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.”

“Does that tin-can boyfriend of yours know?” Mayfeld nodded up to the open ramp of the ship, where the Mandalorian had reappeared and was now staring down at them.

Sari assumed he was wondering why they were delayed in getting on the ship and held up one finger to signal that they would be there in a minute. He nodded in acknowledgment before returning inside and Mayfeld watched him go, eyebrows raised.

“He really has no idea, does he? Maybe somebody oughta tell him he’s running around with an Imp. His kind doesn’t take well to yours, I assume, after what I heard they did to Mandalore.”

“Let me make this crystal clear,” Sari said firmly, turning to face the sharpshooter again. “I don’t know where this tattoo came from or what it means, but I am _not_ Imperial. Not even remotely. Which is more than I can say for _you_ , Mr. Not a Stormtrooper.” He scowled back at her. “And this isn’t nearly as important, but he’s not my boyfriend,” she added belatedly.

“Yeah, well, just stay out of our way and maybe I won’t spill the beans,” he snapped, shouldering past her.

“Blackmail, real classy,” Sari deadpanned as she followed him into the ship. “It’s okay, I’ll save you the trouble. Hey, Mando?” she called up to the bridge where the Mandalorian and the droid named Zero were, ignoring Burg and Xi’an whipping around at the sound of her voice.

“What is it, Sari?” the Mandalorian called back distractedly.

She assumed he was monitoring Zero’s piloting as the Razor Crest’s ramp closed up in preparation for takeoff and decided not to chastise him as usual for his mistrust of droids; if the droid was anything like his companions, then the Mandalorian’s paranoia seemed valid for once.

“Mayfeld here seems to think I’m an Imp,” she explained. “Just thought I’d let you know so it doesn’t take you by surprise when I inevitably sell you out to the Empire.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, I’ll keep it in mind,” the Mandalorian replied dryly, luckily having caught the sarcasm in her voice, and Sari crossed her arms over her chest as she leveled a raised eyebrow at Mayfeld, who looked both chagrined and murderous.

“By all means, try and blackmail me again,” she warned him. “See how far that gets you.”

Ignoring the glare he aimed at her, she took a seat on the bench closest to the sleeping berth where Grogu was likely still asleep.

Despite the sharp blade she was twirling between her fingers, Xi’an’s calculating eyes were fixed on Sari as the Razor Crest’s engines whirred to life, the ship taking off from the hangar. “So what’s a girl like you doing on the Mandalorian’s ship, anyway?”

“Bumped into each other on a mission, decided to run a few more as a team,” Sari answered easily with a one-shouldered shrug; she had learned quickly enough not to give too much information away and to keep her expression neutral around this particular set of mercenaries.

“Looks like someone’s an artist,” Burg chuckled and Sari looked over to see that he was flipping through one of her sketchbooks, likely smudging the charcoal and wrinkling the pages with his massive, clumsy fingers. Her backpack of art supplies lay open at his feet.

“Oh, yeah, that’s mine,” she said as casually as possible, trying her best not to wince at the possibly-ruined drawings and hoping no sketches of Grogu were in there.

“Not bad,” Mayfeld said in grudging appreciation as he glanced over Burg’s arm. “Hey, wait a minute, I recognize that face.”

He took the sketchbook from Burg and Sari grimaced at the familiar outline of Kal’s smiling face on the page when Mayfeld turned it towards her; at least the sketchbook was an old one, if it had drawings of Kal from four years ago in it.

“You know Kal Soren? Hell of a sniper, that guy - even _I_ could take lessons from him,” Mayfeld said, a hint of reverence in his voice.

“He’s my ex,” Sari said shortly as the Mandalorian slid down the ladder, his helmet swiveling between the sketchbook and her as he took in the situation quickly. She wondered if he would remark on the subject on the open page, but he didn’t.

“Don’t go through her belongings,” he said instead as he passed Mayfeld, plucking the book out of his hands and replacing it in the backpack before passing it to Sari. She slung it onto her shoulder for safekeeping, signing a brief _thank you_ to him.

“So, what, you swapped Soren for this guy?” They both turned to Mayfeld, whose eyebrows were raised high with curiosity. “Gotta say, your standards could be higher.”

“I didn’t swap anyone for anyone,” Sari said, not bothering to offer any more information than that.

She could sense Grogu reaching out to her as he stirred from his nap and heard the unfamiliar voices outside, a wave of anxiety and fear that wasn’t entirely her own nearly overwhelming her, and concentrated on sending back a silent reassurance and instructions to remain hidden where he was. She had never tried thinking at him so far, but hoped he would be listening, anyway. To her relief, he seemed to grasp the message, sending back a sensation of agreement, even though it seemed tinged with uncertainty.

By the time she turned her focus back to reality, she was dismayed to see that the Mandalorian and Burg had entered some sort of intense staring contest over the button to open the weapons vault; the telepathic communication seemed to take away far more of her spatial awareness than she would have liked.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Mayfeld cautioned as he stepped between Burg and the Mandalorian. “Okay, I get it, I’m a little particular about my personal space too. So let’s just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don’t have to see our faces anymore.”

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” Burg rumbled, his beady eyes narrowed down at the Mandalorian.

“Well, apparently they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy.” Mayfeld glanced over the Mandalorian briefly, smirking. “So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?” Burg taunted, which made Mayfeld and Xi’an laugh. To Sari’s relief, the Mandalorian remained stock-still instead of taking the bait, his helmet fixed expressionlessly on Burg.

“Well, you flew with him, Xi’an.” Mayfeld glanced over at the Twi’lek, who smirked. “Is he as good as Ran says?”

“Ask him about the job on Alzoc-III,” Xi’an drawled, an unsettling smile playing on her lips at whatever memory she seemed to be reliving.

Judging by the way the Mandalorian’s shoulders tensed even further, Sari assumed the story wasn’t a particularly pleasant one.

“I did what I had to,” he said quietly.

“Oh, but you _liked_ it.” Xi’an pushed herself to her feet, closing the space between herself and the Mandalorian to wind an arm loosely around his stiff shoulders. “See, I know who you really are.”

Sari was alarmed by the intense jealousy that suddenly spiked through her; admittedly, she had told the Mandalorian not to bother justifying whatever he had done in the past, but now she was selfishly curious just what he had seen in Xi’an and why she seemed to be so comfortable touching him.

To her secret relief, the Mandalorian wordlessly took a step back, which forced Xi’an to drop her arm back to her side.

“He never takes off the helmet?” Mayfeld asked and she glanced over her shoulder at the sharpshooter, her smirk returning as she shook her head.

“This is the Way,” she intoned mock-solemnly, her voice deepening in an imitation of the Mandalorian, and Sari stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye; only several weeks of having been around him gave away just how uncomfortable he was as he shifted his balance slightly from one foot to the other.

“What do you look like under there, anyway?” Mayfeld pressed. “Maybe you’re a Gungan. Is that why, uh, yousa don’t wanna show your face?” He cracked a grin as the other two laughed, but the Mandalorian remained silent. “Have you ever seen his face?” Mayfeld asked Xi’an.

“A lady never tells.” She winked, but Sari didn’t miss how the Twi’lek’s eyes drifted to her as she said it.

The logical part of Sari’s brain reminded her that the Mandalorian had admitted directly to her back on Sorgan that he had never shown his face to anyone since he had sworn to his Creed, and she knew better than to think he had lied to her. Still, there was a flash of doubt at the back of her mind for a split moment that he might have trusted Xi’an at some point enough to remove his helmet around her, even if she hadn’t seen his face, and the resulting stab of jealousy was even sharper this time.

“What about you, Imp?” It took a moment for her to realize Mayfeld was addressing her. “You’ve been working with him for a while. He’s never once taken off the helmet around you?”

The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted towards Sari to gauge what she would say, but she shook her head even as she thought of all the nights they had spent with only a makeshift curtain consisting of a clothesline and blanket keeping her from seeing his face.

“No,” she lied. “Also, not an Imp.” At least the second part was the truth, she mused to herself.

“Really? Not even in front of your new girlfriend, Mando?” Mayfeld smirked as the Mandalorian turned back to him without answering. “We all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show us something. Come on, just lift the helmet up. Come on. Let’s all see your eyes. Bet the Imp’s been dying to see ‘em.”

“I’ll do it,” Burg said, reaching out for the edge of the helmet.

Quickly, the Mandalorian grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back as the larger man grunted in pain before driving his shoulder hard into the Mandalorian’s chest plate. The Mandalorian stumbled back before catching himself and kicking Burg as hard as he could in the stomach. Burg wobbled, falling backwards under his own momentum as his elbow hit the button on the wall that opened the door to the sleeping berth beside Sari. She swore internally as the door slid open and revealed a frozen Grogu, his eyes wide as he took in the group of people staring at him.

“What is _that_?” Mayfeld asked as he stepped closer, but Sari quickly pushed herself between the sleeping berth and Mayfeld to bar the doorway. Grogu’s tiny fingers clutched at the back of her shirt as he silently pushed a wave of fear out towards her again.

“I’d keep my distance if I were you,” she warned Mayfeld, unable to spare the attention to reassure Grogu.

“Come on, I just want a look,” Mayfeld dismissed. “Burg, move her.”

“Hey!” Sari protested as Burg grabbed her by the wrist roughly and yanked her aside, tearing her shirt out of Grogu’s hold as the child let out a startled cry behind her.

“Let her go,” the Mandalorian said sharply and Burg obediently released Sari’s wrist. She flexed her wrist with a grimace; there would be fingerprint-shaped bruises later, but it seemed otherwise fine.

She shook her head briefly at the Mandalorian to show him she was alright, but he didn’t seem to notice, his attention returning to where Mayfeld was examining Grogu. Xi’an had joined him, peering over his shoulder, and Sari didn’t like how her knife continued to twirl between her fingers as she looked at the baby with a smirk.

Grogu’s eyes were large with fear as he stared up at the strangers before he looked back at Sari, holding his arms out plaintively for her to pick him up.

“Aw, look, he wants his mama,” Mayfeld jeered, scooping Grogu up before Sari could react as the child let out a whine of protest and attempted to wiggle free. “Maybe _this_ is what you look like under that helmet, huh, Mando? Kid take after his daddy?” he tossed over his shoulder.

The Mandalorian didn’t respond as Grogu whimpered when he realized Sari couldn’t take him, angling himself towards the Mandalorian and reaching for him instead.

“Didn’t take you for the type to drag a child around with you. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft,” Xi’an taunted.

“Put him down,” Sari said and the quiet, simmering anger in her voice surprised even her as everyone, even Grogu, turned to stare at her.

“Yeah?” Mayfeld said casually, although he was watching Sari with a newfound wariness. “Fine. Here, take him.”

He held Grogu out and Sari reached out to take the child, but then Mayfeld pretended to stumble and Sari flinched instinctively. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Mandalorian twitch slightly, as if preparing to jump forward and catch Grogu if he fell, and Xi’an and Burg burst out laughing at their reactions.

Grinning, Mayfeld straightened and readjusted his grip on Grogu so that it was more secure. Sari didn’t miss how the child squirmed uncomfortably, his tiny hands reaching desperately for her again. “Relax, Imp. Just having a little fun with you.”

“Call me ‘Imp’ _one more time_ -” she began heatedly, giving up on keeping her composure.

“Dropping out of hyperspace now,” Zero interrupted from the bridge and suddenly, the Razor Crest lurched as everyone stumbled to catch themselves.

Sari looked back at Mayfeld just in time to see him drop Grogu and quickly navigated her own fall so that she could grab the child on her way down, her shoulder slamming into the floor of the ship painfully as she clutched Grogu close. He sniffled into her collarbone, clinging to her shirt tightly, and she noticed that Mayfeld, Xi’an, and Burg had all stumbled back against the far wall, loudly swearing up at the droid piloting the ship.

“Commencing final approach now,” Zero added.

The Razor Crest rolled abruptly and Sari felt herself tumble towards the wall, but then a warm weight settled over her as a gloved hand slid around to shield the back of her head from hitting the wall.

“Cloaking signal now,” Zero informed the ship at large.

Sari looked up to see that the Mandalorian had thrown himself over her and Grogu, his free arm braced against the wall and his helmet pivoting back and forth as he examined them for any injuries.

“We’re okay,” she reassured him and he relaxed fractionally, ducking his head until she felt the cool press of beskar against her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he said under his breath, just barely loud enough to be audible over the Razor Crest grinding to a halt, and she knew it was for a lot more than the rough ship movements.

“Don’t be.” The impulsive, selfish urge to push his helmet up just enough to kiss him was so overwhelming that Sari had to shut her eyes for a brief moment, but by the time she had composed herself again, the ship had finally stopped moving.

“Engaging coupling now,” Zero announced as the engines powered down. “Coupling confirmed. We are down. And relax. Commence extraction now.”

“Useless droid didn’t even give us a proper countdown,” Xi’an grumbled and Sari’s sense of self-preservation decided for her that she definitely didn’t want to be pinned under the Mandalorian while his insanely-violent ex-girlfriend was still on the ship.

Luckily, he pushed himself off her in the next moment and helped her climb gingerly to her feet as Grogu chirped, projecting a wave of relief and affection to her.

“Yeah, I know, bud. Me, too,” she told the child softly, picking her way past the mercenaries to place him back in his hammock carefully. She dropped her backpack of art supplies on the cot underneath him before brushing one finger gently over the top of his head. “We’ll be back soon, stay safe. You know how to call me if there’s trouble.”

Once Grogu burbled in agreement, Sari shut the sleeping berth door again and hoped none of the mercenaries behind her would try to reach Grogu again. Thankfully, though, they all seemed entirely distracted by Zero’s reckless flying and the mission ahead of them.

“Sure they can’t see us, Z?” Mayfeld called up to the bridge.

“The Razor Crest is scrambling our signature, and I’m inside the prison system,” Zero confirmed, “It’s impressive that this gunship has survived the Empire without being impounded.”

Sari absently patted the hull of the ship in a silent apology, unable to help but feel a twinge of indignation on its behalf. Even though her time on the Razor Crest so far had been brief, it had begun to feel more like home to her than any planet she had ever been to other than Sorgan.

“Alright, we got a job to do. Mando, you’re up.” Mayfeld nodded to the prison ship’s hatch, visible below the Razor Crest’s open gangway. The Mandalorian cast one last look over his shoulder at Sari before kneeling by the hatch and tapping the console beside it.

“No good, there’s a New Republic firewall.”

“A firewall?” Sari echoed, crossing the ship to kneel down beside him. “Hang on, I can bypass it.”

The Mandalorian stared at her as she reached for the console, tapping a few commands in and ignoring its warning beeps as she bypassed the main interactive screen. Once she reached the back-end code, it was far easier to circumvent the firewall than it likely would have been if the code had been written by the Empire.

Catching the Mandalorian’s gaze still fixed on her, she shrugged. “I’ve told you before, jack of several trades - including software programming, in case you forgot.”

“I did,” he admitted and she could hear the smile behind his visor as Mayfeld glanced between the open hatch and Burg.

“It’s me?”

“Always you,” Burg rumbled and Mayfeld shouldered past Sari and the Mandalorian to jump down through the open hatch into the prison ship.

“Zero, get us to the control room,” he ordered into the commlink as Xi’an followed him down into the prison ship, her eyes darting between Sari and the Mandalorian briefly as she passed them. Burg was next, elbowing past them so roughly that Sari nearly stumbled before the Mandalorian reached out to catch her hand and steady her.

“Sub-level three. Disabling on-board surveillance,” Zero confirmed as the Mandalorian glanced at Sari.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” she confirmed, squeezing his hand briefly before letting go and hopping down into the prison ship to land on the tile floor carefully and join their temporary team.

“Alright, we’re on the clock,” Mayfeld said, drawing his blaster as he gestured for them to head down the hall. “The second we engage those droids, they’re gonna be all over us.”

“I know the drill,” the Mandalorian said from behind Sari, his voice the only indication that he had joined them on the prison ship. She wondered how a man covered in heavy armor from head to toe could move so silently, but decided that was a question for another day.

“Bio-trackers activated,” Zero’s voice crackled from Mayfeld’s commlink. “I’ve got eyes.”

“Let’s go.” Mayfeld set off down the hall as Burg and Xi’an followed him.

Sari drew her blaster from its holster as she fell into step beside the Mandalorian, deciding it was safer to stick by his side than the strangers who seemed to enjoy pushing every single one of her buttons. As they walked, she couldn’t help but glance at each of the prison cells they passed and take in the sight of their occupants peering through the small bars in the doors back at them.

“I don’t like this,” the Mandalorian said quietly.

“You always were paranoid,” Xi’an sneered over her shoulder.

“Is that true, Mando? Are you always paranoid?” Mayfeld taunted, but then jumped as a nearby prisoner slammed his hands against the door to his cell, rattling the bars threateningly.

“Kinda seems like there’s a good reason to be paranoid,” Sari pointed out dryly as Xi’an and Burg snickered and Mayfeld threw a scowl over his shoulder at them.

“Approaching control room. Make a left at the next juncture,” Zero informed them.

As they rounded the corner, a mouse-droid beeped at the sight of them and only practice kept Sari from flinching with surprise.

“What?” Burg demanded when Xi’an and Mayfeld both instinctively lifted their respective weapons. “It’s just a little mousey.” He drew his blaster, starting towards the droid.

“What’re you doing, Burg?” Mayfeld demanded warily.

“Mousey, come here,” Burg coaxed as he inched towards the mouse-droid, who skittered away. “Come here.”

Sari glanced across the hallway at the Mandalorian to catch his eye before pointedly rolling hers. Only knowing him as long as she had by then gave away the brief exhale of air filtering through his modulator as a sign of amusement at her frustration.

“Burg, knock it off,” Mayfeld cautioned again as the mouse-droid attempted to flee, but then Burg shot it in frustration, sending fragments of metal flying across the hallway. “You _idiot_!” Mayfeld snapped.

“What?” Burg demanded defensively, whirling around to face them, but four security droids had already rounded the corner, blasters drawn as the bright ceiling lights reflected off their chrome frameworks.

“Intruder alert. Open fire,” they announced in unison before setting off their blasters.

Quickly, Sari dove behind the nearest section of wall to shield herself from the blaster fire, clicking the safety off her own pistol to start firing back at the droids. To her relief, the others had done the same.

“We’re too exposed here,” Xi’an snarled at Mayfeld.

“It’s not gonna matter if they get a signal out,” he retorted. “Let’s go, Mando, you’re supposed to be some special-” He broke off abruptly and when Sari looked up from her attempts to fire back at the security droids, she realized why.

The Mandalorian had vanished into thin air, although she had been sure he had been right behind her when she had initially dived for cover. She glanced around to try and spot any sign of a familiar gleam of beskar, but found nothing. Just as she inched out slightly from behind the wall to get a better look, she spotted him appearing around the corner from the other side of the hallway, drawing the droids’ blaster fire as he slid across the polished floor on his knees and sliced off one of the droids’ feet to send it stumbling.

Sari began to climb to her feet to help him ambush the remaining droids, but Mayfeld waved her down without looking at her, his eyes fixed on the Mandalorian appraisingly. Glowering back at him, she sank back down, clutching her pistol tightly just in case she had to go against orders and intervene.

It seemed she didn’t need to, though, as the Mandalorian twisted his blaster in his hand and shot the second droid straight through its central processing unit. The third droid pinned him against a nearby cell door, but he wriggled his way free before grabbing its head and tearing it off, throwing it hard enough at the last droid to behead it as well.

Sari got to her feet and began to close the space between them, but two more security droids burst around the corner and caught the Mandalorian from behind. Sari brought her blaster up instinctively, ignoring Mayfeld’s scowl aimed at her for going against orders as she fired off a blast that landed squarely in one of the droids’ heads. With one arm now free, the Mandalorian easily took the other one out with the flamethrower jet on his wrist gauntlet before nodding briefly back to Sari in thanks.

“Make sure you clean up your mess,” Mayfeld taunted as he and the other mercenaries passed them and continued down the hallway.

Instead of following them, Sari picked her way past the droid carcasses to the Mandalorian’s side.

“You okay?” she asked quietly enough for only him to hear, deliberately putting out of her mind just how badly she was tempted yet again to tilt his helmet up and kiss him. Mayfeld and Xi’an’s constant taunting had probably just gotten on her nerves enough that she’d confused herself.

“I’m fine.” He slipped his hand into hers for a moment, his thumb tracing over her knuckles briefly before he released her hand again and tilted his helmet in a silent indication that they should follow after the others. Although Sari was hesitant to, she fell into step again beside him as they rejoined the rest of the team making their way to the control room of the prison ship.

“It seems your presence has been detected. Redirecting security alert away from your position,” Zero said over the commlink as they approached the control room door.

“Open the door, Z,” Mayfeld commanded.

“I’m detecting an organic signature inside,” Zero cautioned and Sari glanced at the Mandalorian in time to see his helmet pivot towards her, both of them clearly sharing the same alarmed sentiment.

“Yeah, okay, alright,” Mayfeld said with a roll of his eyes. “Just open the door.”

The door slid open with a quiet hiss and the human New Republic guard inside leapt out of his seat, his blaster trembling in his hands as he held it up.

“Stop! Just - just stop right there!” He swallowed harshly, his eyes darting between Xi’an, Burg, and Mayfeld as they entered the control room. Sari could see the Mandalorian visibly hesitate before following them and decided reluctantly to follow his lead.

“Nice shoes,” Mayfeld sneered as he eyed the guard with disdain.

“Put your blasters down,” the guard insisted.

“Matches his belt,” Mayfeld added over his shoulder and Burg snickered.

“There were only supposed to be droids on this ship,” the Mandalorian reminded Mayfeld.

“Hang on, hang on,” Mayfeld dismissed with a wave of his hand, heading for a panel and tapping at the keys. “Alright, let’s see, Cell 221. That’s it.” He turned away from the panel, lifting his blaster again. “And now for our well-dressed friend here.”

The guard reached into his pocket and yanked out a tracking beacon, holding it up for the room to see.

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Mayfeld’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Easy, egghead. Put that down.”

“Careful,” the Mandalorian cautioned.

“Put it down, _now_!” Mayfeld aimed his blaster at the guard, who froze with his finger on the button to activate the tracking beacon.

“Can everyone calm down?” Sari suggested tentatively, putting away her gun and watching the guard’s eyes follow the movement. She lifted her empty hands in surrender so that he could see. “No one needs to get hurt here.”

“What is that thing?” Burg asked.

“It’s a tracking beacon,” the Mandalorian explained, his helmet swiveling between Mayfeld and the guard warily.

“He presses that thing and we’re all done. A New Republic attack team will hone in on that signal and blow us all to hell. Put it down!” Mayfeld pressed his gun forward and the guard flinched back.

“Are you serious?” Xi’an demanded sharply. “You didn’t think we needed to know that tiny little detail?”

“I didn’t think it’d get to this point,” Mayfeld retorted.

“And yet here we are.” Xi’an rolled her eyes, her ever-present knife twirling between her fingers.

“Are you questioning my managerial style?” Mayfeld snapped back.

“No, sir.” Xi’an mock-saluted him, settling easily into a leather chair and crossing her hands behind her head to watch the scene play out.

“Take it easy,” the Mandalorian said to the guard. “Listen to me, okay? It’s fine. Look.” He holstered his own blaster slowly and Sari watched the guard glance down nervously at the holster before looking back up at the Mandalorian’s helmet. “Put the blaster down,” the Mandalorian added to Mayfeld.

“Yeah, right,” Mayfeld scoffed.

“What’s your name?” Sari asked the guard, ignoring Mayfeld’s incredulous glare aimed at her next.

“D-Davan,” the guard stammered, his eyes darting between her and the Mandalorian anxiously.

“Davan,” the Mandalorian repeated. “We’re not here for you. We’re here for a prisoner. If you let us go about our job, you can walk away with your life.”

“No, he won’t.” Mayfeld pressed his blaster forward, but Sari stepped between Davan and Mayfeld before she could think twice about it, ignoring the barrel of the blaster trained on her forehead now.

“Put it down,” she insisted.

“Listen to her, Mayfeld,” the Mandalorian agreed, although he sounded even more guarded. Sari watched out of the corner of eye as his helmet tilted between her and the blaster consideringly, as if determining how quickly he could disarm Mayfeld in time before he had the chance to pull the trigger. “You realize what you’re gonna bring down on us?”

“You think I care about that?” Mayfeld snarled. “Get out of the way, Imp.”

“I’m not an Imp, and I’m not moving.” Sari hoped she sounded a lot braver than she felt, squaring her shoulders as she held her ground.

“Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll shoot you both, no problem,” Mayfeld said with a forcibly-casual shrug.

“Hurt her and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” The Mandalorian’s voice was low and dangerous enough to send a chill down Sari’s spine as he grabbed his own blaster again, aiming it at the side of Mayfeld’s head. “We’re not killing anyone here.”

“Get that blaster out of my face, Mando,” Mayfeld snapped back at him.

“Lower yours first,” the Mandalorian retorted.

“I said get that blaster out of my _face_ , Mando!” The droid arm emerged from Mayfeld’s backpack, aiming its outfitted blaster at the Mandalorian’s visor, and Burg pulled his blaster out to aim it at the other side of the Mandalorian’s helmet. Sari watched anxiously as he lifted his other arm to aim his flamethrower jet at Burg in return.

“Don’t,” he warned, but then something whipped past Sari so closely that her cheek stung sharply. She turned to find Davan collapsing to the ground behind her, the knife Xi’an had been playing with embedded in his neck.

“Would you all just _shut up_?” the Twi’lek in question sighed heavily, climbing languidly to her feet.

“Crazy Twi’,” Mayfeld grumbled. “I had it under control.”

“Yeah, looked like it,” Xi’an sniped back.

Sari stared at the dead body at her feet numbly for a long moment before noticing something on the floor beside him. Crouching down, she picked up the dropped tracking beacon, which was now beeping faintly and blinking red.

“Was that thing blinking before?” Mayfeld asked warily when he noticed the device in Sari’s hand. “Was it?” She shook her head, unsure if she could form words at the moment.

“Zero to Mayfeld,” the commlink crackled. “Zero to Mayfeld.”

“What?” Mayfeld snapped into it.

“I detected a New Republic distress signal homing in on your location,” Zero informed them. “You have approximately twenty minutes before arrival.”

“We only need five,” Xi’an dismissed.

“Then let’s move.” Mayfeld threw Sari another glare before taking off out of the control room as Xi’an and Burg followed him. Carefully, Sari placed the tracking beacon back on the floor beside Davan’s body, unsure what else to do with it.

“You’re bleeding,” the Mandalorian said suddenly and she glanced back up at him, distracted.

“What?”

“Here.” He reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheek, and his glove came away damp with blood.

“I’m fine,” she dismissed, swiping absently at the cut with the back of her own sleeve and ignoring how the torn skin twinged with pain. “The knife probably just grazed me. Let’s go.”

He hesitated like he wanted to say something else, but she pushed past him out of the control room, unable to stay in the same room as the dead New Republic guard any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy, got another chonker of a chapter for y'all with no line breaks/scene changes because we die like men and also I didn't notice until I was about to hit "post chapter" lol.
> 
> I really liked writing jealous!Sari and I don't know why. It's such an obvious trope, but it felt so natural here to make her be like "wait no I don't like how this woman looks at him" when she knows how reserved Din is and how little he shares with her, much less anyone else.
> 
> I also really wanted to show off Sari and Din's dynamic as bounty hunters, so that's mostly what the "prison-ship" arc will be focused on. I felt in particular that Sari needed to show that she can actually be competent and do stuff other than be soft with her boys. :') She's not even remotely on Din's level in terms of fighting, but she can hold her own well enough after years of bounty hunting.
> 
> Also, check out that backstory for her tattoo, did y'all forget she even had that tattoo? (because I kind of did until I was writing about it in this chapter whoops I forgot my own foreshadowing)
> 
> Keep in mind that little forehead-touch with the helmet, as well. It may or may not come back. ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which betrayal unsurprisingly occurs and Din and Sari have to deal with the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a PSA, I've made a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3w9nqUnIpis815K6fX7Ojr?si=nQ0Bu52GQWChhCtC45WpRw&nd=1) for this fic and added notes as to why I picked each song as [a new work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29179800) in this series. Please feel free to submit song ideas or suggest cover art/themes that I should find songs for!
> 
> I also plan to keep this fic relatively self-contained (i.e., go all the way to the Season 2 finale in this fic without splitting it up into a sequel), but perhaps in the future I might post outtakes as a separate work if I have any. I'm not including smut in this fic in case anyone isn't interested in reading it, but maybe I could hint at it and then add those scenes in more detail in the outtakes. Please let me know what you all think of that idea!

It wasn’t hard to find the rest of the team again; Burg had left a burning path of ruined security droids for them to follow on their way to Cell 221. Sari’s cheek was still bleeding and she swiped at it with her sleeve yet again in the hopes that it would stop soon enough, internally cursing how sharp Xi’an’s knife had been.

She didn’t miss the way the Mandalorian’s helmet turned in her direction repeatedly as they fell into step behind the team, examining her as worry radiated off him in waves. She gave him a silent thumbs-up to reassure him she was fine, but he didn’t seem convinced, so she let it go; they would have time to talk later once the mission was over.

“Alright, open it up, Z,” Mayfeld ordered as he plugged a drive into the cell door’s mechanism.

“You have fifteen minutes remaining,” Zero warned them.

“Just open it already,” Mayfeld snapped into the commlink and the cell door finally slid open, revealing a silhouette that looked far too similar to the woman standing only feet away from Sari for her liking.

“Qin,” the Mandalorian said and Sari could hear the grimace in his voice.

“Funny,” the male Twi’lek rasped, climbing to his feet and sauntering to the doorway. “The man who left me behind is now my savior.”

As he stepped out into the light of the hallway, Sari could see ugly scars littering his face and the natural sneer his mouth pulled into. His purple skin matched Xi’an’s and they both had the same malicious glint in their eyes.

“Mando,” he greeted the Mandalorian, smiling harshly, and that seemed to be Burg’s cue to punch the Mandalorian as hard as he could in the back, sending him sprawling into the cell with a startled grunt.

Before Sari could react, Mayfeld kicked her into the cell as well just as the Mandalorian fired his blaster at the mercenaries, but the cell door quickly slammed shut, locking them in the dark. The laser blast ricocheted off the closed door and the Mandalorian instinctively threw himself over Sari as the blast hit his right pauldron and fizzled into the air harmlessly.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he rolled off her.

“Yeah, I’m great, except for the fact that we were just betrayed. Big shock there.” She scrambled to her feet, standing on her toes to peer out through the bars of the cell door. “And a hearty ‘fuck you’ to you guys, too!” she called after the retreating mercenaries, bristling with indignation when she heard them cackling amongst themselves. “How do you say that in Mando’a, by the way?” she added over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you later,” the Mandalorian reassured her, joining her at the door and glancing out at the hallway.

Sari rubbed at the cut on her cheek absently; it was still sticky with wet blood, which meant the cut had been deeper than she’d originally guessed.

“If we can get a security droid’s arm in here, I can open the lock from the inside,” she suggested, blindly running her hand over the metal door in the dark and finding the slot in which a key would go.

“I see one coming around now,” the Mandalorian agreed, stretching his arm carefully through the bars of the door before shooting the whipcord from his wrist gauntlet. The security droid let out a startled beep as it was grappled, yanked off its feet towards the cell.

Sari grabbed one of the hooked blades from her belt as the Mandalorian yanked on the whipcord, pulling the struggling droid closer until its arm extended into the cell. With one slice, Sari hacked it off easily, catching the dismembered limb as it fell to the floor. The Mandalorian shot his blaster through the bars to take out the droid’s head as Sari squinted at the panel on the robotic arm in the darkness of the cell before tapping her own wrist gauntlet to pull up a flashlight.

“Okay, the wiring isn’t too bad. Just gotta tweak it a little.” She tugged on a couple of wires and reconnected them to force the droid’s cell door key to extend out. “Got it.” She climbed back to her feet, pressing the key to the cell door and turning it until the lock disengaged with a click and the door slid open.

“We need to get back to the control room,” the Mandalorian told her as she tossed the droid arm to the floor on their way out. “The sooner we can stop them from getting to the ship, the better. If Grogu reaches out to you, see if you can find out where he is.”

“I can try,” she agreed, trying to concentrate on both thinking at Grogu and running with the Mandalorian to the control room. To her relief, Grogu met her halfway, projecting a wave of fear and concern when he seemed to sense the frustration and pain she was feeling.

She dismissed the worry and tried to project a sense of reassurance back to him along with a question: _Where are you?_

Grogu sent her an image instead of answering in words: the droid Zero turning to him and remarking with a tilt of its mechanical head, “Curious,” before reaching for a blaster rifle. He then added an image of where he was now, tucked away between the weapons vault and a nearby chest of supplies.

“Well, kriff, that’s not ideal,” Sari said out loud, nearly stumbling over her own feet as she came back to reality and realized that they had reached the control room.

“What is it?” The Mandalorian was already moving to a control panel, tapping a few codes in to pair his wrist gauntlet with the security controls.

“The droid’s going after Grogu,” she admitted. “But I think he said he’s hiding? I don’t know, he mainly uses pictures to communicate instead of words, so it’s hard to say. It looked like he was behind the weapons vault.”

“Still think I’m overly paranoid about droids?” the Mandalorian said dryly over his shoulder as he pressed a button and Sari watched heavy steel doors descending across each of the ship’s main areas.

“I’ll let it slide this once,” she conceded, chewing her lip for a moment before crossing the room to where Davan still lay and scooping up the blinking tracking beacon to examine it. “I think I could reroute this signal temporarily, give us some more time.”

“Give it a try,” the Mandalorian agreed and she dug into her belt for a cable to plug into one end of the tracking beacon before placing the other end into the control panel in front of her.

“So right now, we’ve got about ten minutes, but I can give them the run-around for maybe an hour before the signal resets back to the beacon.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Would that be enough time?”

“More than enough,” he reassured her and she typed in the command to reroute the signal to approximately an hour’s flight away from their current location before unplugging it again.

“Got it.”

“Great, give it here.” He held out his hand and she passed the beacon over, frowning.

“What are we keeping it for? We don’t want any X-Wings after the Crest.”

“I’ve got a theory that I want to test,” he admitted. “Can you reroute the signal again if we need to?”

“With enough time to hack it, sure,” she agreed.

“Then that’s enough.” He pocketed the beacon before turning back to the security camera feeds.

Sari could see that Burg and Xi’an had been separated from Mayfeld and Qin, who were still on their way to the Razor Crest while Burg and Xi’an made their way via separate hallways to the control room.

“So how are we splitting this up?” she asked wryly as she memorized the layout of the prison ship from the control room to where Burg and Xi’an respectively were.

“I can handle Burg here. You’re taking Xi’an.” She aimed a mild glare at the Mandalorian, who shrugged unrepentantly. “If it makes you feel better, you’re faster than I am and you can handle her in a fight.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you’re using me as bait for your crazy ex only because you said that,” she said with a roll of her eyes and he reached out to lace their fingers together, squeezing her hand tightly.

“Be careful,  mesh’la.”

“You, too.” Before Sari could stop herself, she stood on her toes, pressing her lips briefly to where she imagined the Mandalorian’s cheek was behind the beskar helmet before tearing her hand away from his and taking off at a run out of the control room before she could let herself think too much about what she’d just done.

* * *

Din didn’t know how long he stood in the same spot in the control room where Sari had left him, his fingers brushing absently over the spot where her lips had pressed against his helmet as he stared at the open door she had run through, but it was far more precious time than he really had any right to waste.

Even as he shook himself out of his distraction and focused instead on climbing up into the ventilation system of the prison ship, he couldn’t quite get the image of Sari leaning up to kiss his helmet - right where the corner of his mouth was, not that he knew if she had been aiming for that spot in particular - out of his head.

Selfishly, he wished there hadn’t been a helmet in the way at all, but squashed that train of thought as Burg entered the control room, his beady eyes wandering over the blinking control panels.

“Where are you, little mouse?” he called tauntingly.

Din reached down through the grate of the ventilation system carefully, aiming his whipcord before shooting it out to grapple Burg around the neck. Even as he pulled as hard as he could, he knew it would take more than just his strength to pull the Devaronian off his feet, and sure enough, Burg yanked down on the cord roughly once he regained his balance, causing Din to come crashing through to the floor of the control room.

He retracted the whipcord quickly and rolled to his feet just in time to avoid Burg’s fists smashing down on the floor beside him. The tile cracked underneath the force of Burg’s punches and Din pressed the button on his vambrace to trigger his flamethrower jet, but it seemed to make no impact on the Devaronian even as Din aimed the jet of fire right at his face.

He grimaced as the fire sputtered, the fuel running out for the jet, and Burg threw him into the wall of control panels on the other side of the room. Luckily, the beskar armor took most of the impact, but it still knocked the wind out of him as he scrambled to push himself upright again.

“Let’s see your face, Mandalorian,” Burg said, reaching for his helmet, and Din brought both of his legs up, planting his boots squarely in the Devaronian’s chest and sending him stumbling back into the doorway of the control room.

Din grabbed his blaster and shot the mechanism holding the heavy steel door in place, causing it to drop down on Burg and nearly flatten him under its weight. Burg grabbed the edges of the door in time, pushing himself slowly to his feet and holding the door up above his head, and Din quickly pressed the button on the control panel nearest him to shut the vertically-sliding doors of the control room. The tips of Burg’s horns rolled to a halt at Din’s feet and he waited a beat before opening the vertical steel doors warily.

Burg lay unconscious underneath the horizontal security door and Din was secretly glad for the Devaronian’s bulk propping the door open as he pushed himself underneath and out into the hallway before wrapping one end of his whipcord around Burg’s ankle to yank him out from underneath the door.

Cell 221 remained open in his and Sari’s wake, and so he dragged Burg to it, leaving him inside before shutting the door behind him in case he awoke again. It didn’t take long to find Xi’an and Sari, but by the time Din rounded the corner, he found himself frozen in place as he took in the sight in front of him.

Both women were facing at an angle away from him, Sari’s hooked blades drawn and unfolded as she spun them between her fingers expertly and blocked each of the sharp knives Xi’an threw at her from the other end of the hallway with far more ease than Din had expected. She rolled out of the way of another barrage of knives behind the cover of a wall before flinging out one of her blades precisely enough that the hooked end latched onto the fabric of Xi’an’s shirt and embedded itself into the metal pillar behind her, pinning her in place.

Even as she scrambled to free herself, yanking Sari’s blade out of her shirt, Sari launched herself out from behind the wall, rolling to her feet with ease and bringing the hilt of her other blade down over Xi’an’s head as hard as she could to knock her out fully.

“Do you have _any idea_ how many knives this woman carries?” she demanded breathlessly when she noticed Din’s presence, seemingly unaware that he was rooted to the spot and staring at her as she reached down and snatched her other blade up from the floor beside the unconscious Twi’lek. “Where did she even _keep_ those?” She gestured emphatically at the glittering knives scattered on the floor behind her.

Din opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out as he found himself still reeling a little from what he’d just seen. He had known Sari could hold her own in a fight, but seeing it in front of him had been so overwhelming that he couldn’t make his voice work for a moment.

“Told you you could handle her,” he pointed out when his vocal cords finally decided to cooperate and Sari flushed a faint pink even as she grinned broadly, clearly pleased with herself.

There was a fresh cut on her temple trickling blood down the side of her face where another knife must have grazed her and she was clearly exhausted and disheveled as she caught her breath, loose strands of dark hair that had escaped her braid sticking to her sweaty forehead and the back of her neck messily. Under the artificial lights of the hallway, the gold flecks within the green of her irises shone brightly enough that they were almost blindingly intense.

She had never looked more beautiful, and it was all Din could do not to give into the temptation to throw all caution to the wind, push her against the nearest wall, and tilt his helmet up just enough to crush his mouth against hers and steal her breath away again.

“We should, uh-” He gestured vaguely down at Xi’an and Sari followed his gaze, her nose wrinkling thoughtfully as she returned her blades to her belt.

“Yeah, I didn’t really plan this far ahead. What did you do with Burg, anyway?”

“Tossed him into the cell they trapped us in, same as what we’re going to do with her,” he explained, taking his whipcord and securing Xi’an with it before setting to work dragging her along to the cell. Sari followed behind him while wiping blood and sweat from her face absently with her sleeve.

Thankfully, the Twi’lek remained knocked out even as Din unlocked the cell and tossed her in beside the still-unconscious Burg.

“We’ve still got Mayfeld and Qin left,” Sari reminded him as he retracted the whipcord into his wrist gauntlet again and shut the cell door behind them. “I checked in on Grogu again just now and he’s still taking the droid on a wild goose chase around the Crest, which I might eventually find hilarious after all of this is over,” she added dryly.

It didn’t escape Din that Sari had somehow reached out to Grogu rather than the other way around like it had been so far. He purposely shoved the thought out of his mind that maybe she _did_ possess some unique skill set similar to that of the child they had both somehow become responsible for; the last thing he needed was to be distracted thinking about the strange connection Sari and Grogu shared.

“If I know Qin, he’d have left the others to fend for themselves,” he said instead to get them back on track. “Mayfeld is probably still here on the prison ship somewhere. You need to get back to the Crest and find Grogu. Take the droid out, leave Mayfeld and Qin to me.”

For a split second, he hoped wildly that Sari would lean up and kiss him again, even if only on the helmet, but she only nodded, turning sharply and taking off down the hallway before vanishing out of sight. Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he wheeled around to return to the control room to find Mayfeld on the security feeds.

* * *

To Sari’s relief, she had somehow beaten Qin to the Razor Crest; she assumed she had memorized the prison ship’s layout well enough while he had only been trapped in one of the cells all this time without access to the layout. She climbed up through the hatch back into the Crest, drawing her blaster and firing it straight through Zero’s back just as the droid lifted his rifle to aim into one of the sleeping berths.

As Zero toppled over, Grogu dropped his gaze to his own hand in amazement, his eyes wide, before he looked back up at Sari and visibly crumpled in disappointment when he noticed the smoking barrel of her gun.

“Aw, baby, did you think you’d done that?” Sari couldn’t help an incredulous laugh as she holstered her blaster again before kicking the droid’s carcass aside so that she could scoop Grogu into her arms. “It’s okay, I’ll let you handle the threat next time,” she teased and Grogu reached up, patting at the cut on her cheek with a worried whimper even as his gaze drifted up to the matching cut on her temple. “I’m fine,” she reassured him with a faint smile, pressing a kiss between his eyebrows gently.

He chirped back at her with relief before tucking his head against the crook of her neck as she squeezed him close briefly before reaching for her commlink tucked into her shirt collar.

“Mando, I’m on the Crest with Grogu. Droid’s down for the count,” she said into the device. “Do you copy?”

“I copy,” the Mandalorian answered tersely. “Mayfeld’s locked up with the others and I’m on my way to you. Did you run into Qin?”

“No, I must’ve gotten here first. The ship’s empty apart from us,” Sari answered, settling Grogu on her hip as she spoke. The child reached for the commlink with a gurgle and she angled the device away from his outstretched fingers.

“I’ll keep an eye out, then,” the Mandalorian agreed, but Sari could hear the slight smile in his voice; he had clearly heard Grogu through the commlink. “Grab the first-aid kit for those cuts on your face and head upstairs. I’ll meet you there. Shoot anyone who enters the bridge but me.”

“Got it,” she confirmed before putting the commlink away, rummaging through their supplies for the kit and then climbing up onto the bridge as Grogu clung tightly to her. She set the tin of first-aid supplies down on the console of the ship before collapsing into the co-pilot’s seat, settling Grogu on her knee. “Today’s been a hell of a day,” she told the baby wearily.

He let out a gusty sigh of vehement agreement before waving his little hand at her.

“What’re you saying ‘hi’ for?” she wondered, bewildered, but he let out a huff of frustration and waved again pointedly. “Okay, hang on.” She sat up slightly before holding out both of her hands, closing the last two fingers on her left and the middle two fingers on her right. “Which one are you trying to do?”

Grogu glanced between her hands consideringly before patting her right hand.

“Oh.” Sari’s throat tightened. “I - me, too, kiddo.”

She had outgrown that particular simplified sign by the time she had learned what it meant, but seeing Grogu sign “I love you” made her heart leap into her throat as she gathered him into her arms again and clutched him tightly. He burbled in relief that she’d understood his message, pressing his chin against her shoulder as he nestled into her embrace.

Footsteps towards the ladder below made her drop Grogu into the co-pilot’s seat, scrambling to her feet and aiming her blaster warily at the doorway to the bridge, but then the Mandalorian emerged from the ladder and she let out the breath she had been holding, holstering her gun again.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, shutting the door to the bridge behind them. “Qin’s down below, I reached the ship at the same time he did. We’re taking him to Ran and getting the money he promised us.”

Grogu cooed with relief as he peered around the seat at the Mandalorian, who closed the space between them to scoop the child up and nestle him against one shoulder. Sari caught sight of a tear in the fabric of the undershirt he wore beneath his armor, the faint gleam of dark purplish blood visible beneath his chest plate.

“You said you were fine,” she pointed out.

“What?” The Mandalorian glanced away from the child currently burrowing into his shoulder, following Sari’s gaze down to the injury on his side. “Oh. Mayfeld’s blaster went off and grazed me right as I subdued him. It’s fine. We need to get going.”

Before Sari could protest, he passed Grogu back to her, settling into the pilot’s seat with barely a wince and starting the takeoff sequence for the Razor Crest. Reluctantly, she dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, keeping the lever to stabilize the ship steady as they took off and entered hyperspace.

Grogu clambered unceremoniously out of Sari’s lap once the Razor Crest leveled out, toddling up to the Mandalorian’s seat and lifting his arms plaintively. With a sigh, the Mandalorian scooped him up to settle him on his knee, unscrewing the shift knob almost instinctively and holding it out to him. Grogu ignored the shift knob for once, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as he stretched out his tiny hand, and Sari cracked a smile despite herself.

“I think he’s trying to heal you, Mando.”

“He’s what?” The Mandalorian looked down at his side, briefly alarmed, before glancing back at Grogu as the child opened his eyes again, listing sideways from the effort he had put in.

Automatically, the Mandalorian steadied Grogu before Sari could, his free hand drifting to the former wound underneath his chest plate. His glove came away clean, as if he had never been shot at all, and he swallowed harshly before scooping Grogu up to settle him against his shoulder, setting the discarded shift knob aside.

“Thanks, kid.” His voice sounded rough even through the modulator and Grogu burbled sleepily, patting the side of the beskar helmet affectionately in return.

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t have him waste his energy on me, you seemed worse off,” Sari pointed out wryly and the Mandalorian’s helmet drifted up to her again, clearly examining her face.

“Grab some antiseptic for yourself,” he told her, but the sternness of the order was undercut by the fact that he was absently patting Grogu’s back while the child drifted off to sleep against his shoulder. “Those cuts may have stopped bleeding, but they’re deep enough that they need to be cleaned out.”

Sari had to force herself to look away from the sight beside her before it could make her heart constrict with overwhelming fondness, grabbing an antiseptic wipe from the first-aid kit and dabbing at the gashes on her cheek and forehead with a suppressed wince as the cold liquid stung the open wounds.

“Mayfeld woke up again before I threw him in the cell,” the Mandalorian said after a moment and Sari glanced back at him to find his helmet angled towards her. Grogu had fallen asleep against his shoulder, his little chest rising and falling evenly with each breath. “He said a few things about you.”

“What, did he call me an Imp _again_?” Sari rolled her eyes as she balled up the used, red-smeared antiseptic wipe and shoved it into her pocket to throw out later.

“Why didn’t you tell me your tattoo was an Imperial operating number?” the Mandalorian countered.

As if of its own accord, Sari felt her hand come up to trace the alphanumeric code inked into the skin over her right ear, hidden by her hair. She had done it so many times throughout her life without even thinking about it that she had memorized every single line and curve of the marks.

“I didn’t know that was what it was,” she admitted, “Assuming Mayfeld was even being honest about that. It’s what he was telling me before we left for the mission.”

“If anyone would know, he would. He was Imperial himself.” The Mandalorian’s helmet was unreadable and Sari half-wished she really did have Grogu’s telepathic powers to reach into the Mandalorian’s mind and see what he was thinking.

“If I asked Ran where he knows me from, do you think he’d tell me?” she asked, not entirely changing the subject as she turned her gaze forward again and watched the stars zoom past the window.

“He might,” the Mandalorian allowed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the door was shut behind them so that Qin wouldn’t overhear them from below. “Although I’m not convinced he and Qin aren’t going to turn around and betray us once we get back to the space station. I have a feeling we were set up from the start, which is why I brought this.”

He reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out the New Republic tracking beacon and setting it on the console.

“Can you see how much time we have left? It won’t take more than fifteen minutes to reach the station from where we are now," he added.

Sari took the beacon and the cable from the pack on her belt, plugging the device into the Razor Crest’s console and frowning at the diagnostics screen that came up.

“It’s looking like twenty right now,” she answered, unplugging the beacon and passing it back to the Mandalorian.

He pocketed the device again with a brief nod of acknowledgment. “Then you have about five minutes to get your answers from Ran, if he cooperates.”

“Do you believe what Mayfeld said about me?” Sari asked before she could stop herself, unable to bring herself to look at the Mandalorian.

He was silent for far too long before he let out a quiet sigh. “I believe he was right about your tattoo and what it means, but not about you.”

“That doesn’t really make it any better,” she admitted, feeling nausea twist in her stomach.

“You were three years old when you were left on Sorgan,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, and neither of us know what happened before that,” she retorted, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat.

“Sari-”

“SD apparently stands for ‘science division,’” she interrupted him, needing to say it before her vocal cords potentially failed her. “Mayfeld thought that meant I was some kind of experiment. Could be why you think I can do what Grogu can.”

“ _Can_ you?” the Mandalorian asked warily.

“If you’d asked me that a couple days ago, I’d’ve said no, but now I’m not so sure.” Sari buried her face into her hands, her eyes aching with exhaustion. “All I know is that it’s easy for me to know what he’s thinking, and to - I don’t know - project what I’m thinking back at him. That sounds insane, now that I’m saying it out loud. Maybe _I’m_ insane.”

“You’re not,” the Mandalorian said with far more confidence than she felt the claim deserved, especially considering his record of skepticism.

“Then I’m an Imperial lab rat, and neither option is all that great,” she retorted, dropping her hands back into her lap, and felt his free hand slide over hers to lace their fingers together.

“You might’ve been once,” he said quietly. “But I’m not holding whatever happened to you as a child against you. You couldn’t have controlled that. Whatever Ran says, we’ll figure it out from there. Until then, put it out of your mind. Okay?”

Sari nodded numbly, focusing on the feeling of the Mandalorian’s thumb brushing over her knuckles slowly and allowing it to ground her back in reality.

“I want to hear that list,” he said suddenly and she glanced up from their intertwined hands, her train of thought entirely derailed by the request.

“What?”

“The list,” he repeated, his visor still focused on her. “The one you said you were making about me. I want to hear what you have so far.”

“Oh, um, well, like I said before, it’s not long.” Sari felt her face warm with embarrassment. “You have brown hair, brown eyes, and apparently a mustache, which I refuse to believe actually exists and am thoroughly convinced you made up to pretend you’re interesting under all that armor.”

The Mandalorian let out an unexpected laugh at that, brief and startled, and the sound jolted Grogu awake as he let out a bleary sound of protest, but Sari reached over impulsively with her free hand to pat the child’s back until he settled back down with a disgruntled noise aimed at both of them for disturbing his sleep.

“What else?” the Mandalorian prompted once Grogu’s eyes drifted shut again, a smile still audible in his voice.

“You’re forty years old,” Sari continued, flustered, “You hate droids, and you have a crazy knife-obsessed ex-girlfriend. That’s where the list ends for now.”

“The mustache is real and Xi’an and I only slept together a few times, nothing else, but the rest was accurate,” he pointed out amusedly.

“I won’t stand for this false mustache propaganda, you know,” Sari threatened, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling all the same, her spirits lifted. She adamantly refused to acknowledge the little vindictive spike of relief at the new information that he and Xi’an had never been serious.

He relaxed marginally as well as he took in her smile. “That’s better,  mesh’la.” He released her hand and reached up, his fingers brushing gingerly over the cut on her temple and pushing a few stray hairs away from her forehead.

She suddenly remembered the kiss she had pressed against his helmet back in the control room of the prison ship, silently praying that he wouldn’t bring it up; she didn’t know what to even make of her own impulsive decision, much less how to explain it to him. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, only dropping his hand away again once he had tucked her hair behind her ear for her.

“We’re coming up on the station now.” He was all business again, passing the sleeping Grogu over to Sari before focusing on landing the Razor Crest back in the space station’s hangar. Grogu whined as he was roused again from his impromptu nap and Sari rubbed his back to soothe him.

“Shh, it’s okay, bud, we’re just landing,” she told the child, brushing a finger over one of his large ears gently and watching it twitch towards her with a faint smile as he yawned.

Whatever mysteries her past held, her present seemed good enough as it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translation(s):
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful
> 
> Din's POV in this chapter was a ton of fun to write, purely for the below image I had in my head the entire time:
> 
> Din: *sees Sari win a fight* haha I'm in danger (alternatively, in a Squidward voice: OH NO SHE'S HOT)
> 
> I was excited to finally get a peck on the cheek into this chapter, although it really wasn't planned until I was writing it, lol. True, it's on the outside of the helmet, but let's be honest, it's more action than Din's probably gotten in literal years.
> 
> I did also like getting to write Sari being able to actually use her hooked blades, even if it was short since Din walked in halfway through the fight. Action has never been my strong suit, so forgive any lack of description while I rushed to get to the fluff that I'm far more comfortable in.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and more of Sari's backstory will appear in the next update, promise!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari and Din take a moment to breathe after the prison-heist-gone-wrong and then get a call from a familiar face.

Sari was glad that Qin didn’t bother looking once at her or Grogu, too focused on mistrustfully eyeing the Mandalorian as they descended from the bridge once the Razor Crest had landed. She took the opportunity to set Grogu down in his hammock, pressing the stuffed mudhorn toy into his hands to occupy him.

“We’ll be back soon,” she promised him under her breath as the ship’s ramp lowered behind her. “Stay put, okay?” He cooed back at her and she ruffled the wispy hair on top of his head affectionately before shutting the sleeping berth door and following the Mandalorian and Qin out of the Razor Crest.

Ran was waiting for them, his eyes darting over the three of them even as he smiled broadly and embraced Qin.

“Good to see you, pal,” he told the Twi’lek as he pulled back, clapping his shoulder before turning to face the Mandalorian. “Where are the others?”

“No questions asked,” the Mandalorian said simply. “That’s the policy, right?”

Even from where she lingered by the ramp, Sari could see Ran’s eyebrows knit briefly together before he plastered an easy smile back on his face. “Yeah, it is.”

“We did the job,” the Mandalorian added pointedly.

“Yeah, you did.” Ran brought out a coin purse, pressing it into the Mandalorian’s outstretched hand.

“Just like the good old days,” the Mandalorian said dryly, pocketing the money.

“Yeah, just like ‘em.” Ran nodded briefly. “Good seeing you, Mando. Nice meeting your girl Sarika back there, too.”

“Still just Sari,” she corrected as the Mandalorian joined her at the ramp, turning to make her way back into the Razor Crest; whatever Ran knew about her, she had decided not to bother finding out.

“Funny, that’s not what your mother called you when she handed you over to me,” Ran drawled and Qin let out a low, sinister chuckle beside him as Sari froze in her tracks and the Mandalorian paused beside her.

“Sari, don’t,” he cautioned, his voice low enough for only her to hear, but she was already spinning around again despite herself, her resolve to leave things alone crumbling instantly.

“My mother?” she echoed warily.

“Well, she _had_ to have been, on account of her looking exactly like you do now. Only difference might’ve been the eyes.” Ran grinned as Sari stared at him, wide-eyed, before adding, “Paid me and my pilot at the time a hefty sum to ferry you to some backwater planet where no one would find you, and extra not to breathe a word of it to anybody. What was that planet we picked again?” He made a show of thinking.

“Sorgan,” Sari breathed.

“That’s it!” Ran snapped his fingers, pointing at her. “Sorgan, that’s the one. Left you in some forest and took off from there.”

“Did you get her name?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “My mother - did she give you her name?”

“ _Sari_ ,” the Mandalorian warned a little more sharply behind her; they were running low on time. She hadn’t missed how he had slipped the tracking beacon into Qin’s back pocket on their way out of the Razor Crest.

“Couldn’t say.” Ran shrugged. “I don’t get paid to learn my clients’ names, girlie. All I was told was to meet her outside an Imperial base on Nevarro for the hand-off.”

Sari struggled to find the next right question to ask and find out as much as she could, but the Mandalorian’s hand landed firmly on her shoulder, wheeling her around unceremoniously and guiding her back towards the ship before she could so much as protest.

“He doesn’t know anything else,” he said under his breath for only her to hear as he pressed a button beside the ramp doorway and it closed behind them. “We’ll look for more information elsewhere, but right now, we have to leave. Go sit with the kid while I take us into hyperspace.”

She nodded numbly and followed his instructions, making a beeline for the sleeping berth and scooping Grogu out of his hammock before settling on the cot underneath it as the Mandalorian climbed up to the bridge. Seemingly sensing her distress, the child in her arms burbled worriedly to get her attention before waving his hand pointedly for her to see.

Managing a weak smile, Sari mimicked the sign, folding her middle two fingers down before waving her hand back at him as the Razor Crest rumbled to life beneath them.

“I love you, too,” she said aloud, but her voice cracked as she hauled him close and felt his tiny arms sliding around her neck to cling to her in return. Her vision blurred and she shut her stinging eyes tightly as the tears welling in them spilled over.

Grogu let out an alarmed cry, pulling out of her embrace and patting at her wet cheeks frantically, and Sari couldn’t help but sputter a watery laugh despite herself.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. “I’m okay.” She felt as far from okay as she possibly ever had, but frightening the child in her arms wasn’t an option, as far as she was concerned.

The Mandalorian slid down the ladder again and stopped in the doorway of the sleeping berth, his helmet swiveling back and forth between the increasingly-panicked Grogu and the likely-visible tear tracks on Sari’s face. After a moment of silent deliberation, he held his hands out for Grogu wordlessly and Sari passed the child over before taking the opportunity to wipe her face dry properly with her sleeve.

“Move over?” he prompted and she shuffled backwards, allowing him to climb into the small sleeping berth beside her as he set Grogu in the hammock above them. Grogu whined in protest and the Mandalorian looked up at him again. “Just a minute, I’ll bring you back down.” He began to remove each piece of armor methodically and set them aside on the floor of the ship as Sari stared at him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, bewildered.

“Well, it’s not exactly going to be comfortable for you to be curled up against my armor all night,” he pointed out as he removed his chest plate last and set it aside, leaving him in just his helmet and the dark undershirt and pants he wore beneath his armor.

The sight should have looked silly to Sari, the beskar helmet seemingly oversized now that the bulky armor that accompanied it was gone, but all she could feel was an overwhelming sense of sheer relief when she finally realized what the Mandalorian had in mind. He sat back against the metal wall before scooping Grogu out of the hammock, nestling him against one shoulder and then opening his other arm in a silent invitation.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Sari shuffled closer, burying her face into the warmth of his shoulder and feeling his arm slide around her waist to pull her in closer.

“Is this okay?” he asked as the door to the sleeping berth slid shut, engulfing the three of them in darkness.

“More than okay,” she reassured him.

He relaxed marginally, ducking down until she felt his chin rest on top of her head. It was scratchy with stubble and she could feel the edge of the underside of his helmet beside it. She was tempted to look up and see what little of his face she could make out as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, but decided against it, curling against his side comfortably instead.

“Do you want to talk about any of it?” he offered tentatively after a moment.

“Not really.” She turned her nose into the warm bare skin at the hollow of his throat; he smelled like the sharp tang of metal and sweat, but it didn’t make her want to pull away.

“Okay,” he agreed easily. “If you change your mind, I’ll listen.”

“I know. Thank you.” She hesitated before sliding one arm around his broad back loosely and he tensed for a moment before relaxing into the touch.

Grogu made a frustrated noise as he attempted to wriggle closer to Sari before wedging himself between her and the Mandalorian so that he could curl up between them. Sari couldn’t help but crack a smile, reaching up with her free hand to rub the child’s back absently and listening to him settle down with a contented sound that oddly resembled purring.

“So did it work?” she asked after a moment of just soaking in the warmth of the embrace she was wrapped in.

“Hmm?” The Mandalorian’s hand slid up slowly, drawing lazy patterns into the small of her back through her shirt.

“The beacon,” she clarified, stamping down the shiver that accompanied the delicate touch.

“X-Wing patrol showed up just as we pulled out of the hangar,” he confirmed. “Good thing, too, because I’m pretty sure I saw Ran launching a gunship to take us out right as the X-Wings arrived.”

Sari couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Wow, two betrayals in one day. Your old friends are the _worst_.”

The Mandalorian chuckled wryly above her. “Yeah, that’s probably why I stopped running missions with them.”

“I know I said you don’t need to justify anything, and you don’t,” she offered, tilting her head back to peer up at him in the darkness of the room.

“But you’re still curious why I worked with them?” he guessed and added before she could change her mind and tell him not to bother explaining, “It was a long time ago. I was twenty-one and had just joined the Guild. I’m not proud of most of the things I did back then, but like Ran said, it was mostly for the target practice.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sari shrugged one shoulder. “We all do stupid stuff when we’re young. Besides, I like you the way you are now.”

The Mandalorian’s fingers paused in the middle of tracing a circle into her spine. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” She tucked her head back under his chin comfortably as he relaxed beneath her.

“I never took my helmet off around her,” he blurted out after a moment.

“Who, Xi’an?” Sari asked, startled by the admission.

“Yeah. Or anyone else, for that matter.” He reached up and carefully tugged the hair-tie at the end of Sari’s braid out before unraveling the braid single-handedly. She let him, shutting her eyes at the feeling of his fingers in her hair. “That first night we spent in your village on Sorgan was the first time I’d ever removed it with anyone else in the room.”

“Why did you?” She tilted her head absently into the brief brush of his fingers at the nape of her neck. “I couldn’t have been the first person to suggest it.”

“You weren’t,” he confirmed.

“So what made you do it?” she pressed.

“You put up a curtain for me.” She pulled back to stare at him and he shrugged slightly, careful not to jostle Grogu. “No one had ever offered anything like that before. And you were the first person to promise not to look and actually mean it.”

“I was tempted nearly every night we were there,” she admitted, nestling back in against him. “But I know how much it means to you, and I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want.”

“I know,  mesh’la.” The Mandalorian tilted his head down and she felt his visor press against the top of her head for a moment before it was replaced by his chin again. “I trust you.”

Sari cracked a wry smile. “Even though I’m apparently an Imperial lab rat?”

He tugged on a lock of her hair in a silent reprimand, although his fingers quickly smoothed it out just as quickly. “Stop that. You never made a conscious decision to work for the Empire, you were a _child_. Yes, I still want to know what exactly a three-year-old was doing in an Imperial base, but I don’t blame _you_ for it.”

“Mayfeld seemed to think you would,” she pointed out.

“Well, there’s a reason he’s stuck on a New Republic prison ship and you’re here,” he reminded her. “Do you honestly think I would let you near Grogu if I didn’t trust you? Would you, if it were the other way around?”

“No,” she conceded as she lowered her gaze to Grogu and found him fast asleep between them, his breathy, childish snores just barely loud enough for her to hear. “He’s important to both of us.”

“He is,” the Mandalorian agreed before adding quietly, seemingly to himself, “Aliit ori’shya tal’din.”

“What does that mean?” Sari asked, reaching up to smooth the wispy hair on Grogu’s head down with one finger as the child slept.

“‘Family is more than blood,’” the Mandalorian translated after a moment’s hesitation and Sari blinked back fresh tears, turning her face back into his shoulder; it was impossible to avoid recognizing the rush of emotion for what it was.

“I like that,” she said at last instead of what she really wanted to say as her heart pounded an unsteady staccato of _I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you_ against her sternum.

“Me, too,” he admitted, seemingly unaware of her internal struggle as his fingers carded through her hair slowly again. “You know, your full name’s similar to another word in Mando’a,” he added belatedly.

“Yeah? Which one?” She tilted her head back up curiously.

“Cyar’ika,” he supplied.

She raised an eyebrow after a beat when he didn’t offer its equivalent in Basic, positive he would see it even though the room was nearly pitch-dark. “Okay, yes, that sounds very similar to ‘Sarika,’ but your lack of translation is making me think it’s an insult.”

“The opposite, actually,” he said vaguely.

“Alright, then, keep your secrets,” she groused goodnaturedly, earning a low chuckle from him that sent another shiver down her spine.

“It’s been a long day for all of us. Go to sleep, Sari.”

“Keep throwing foreign words at me and see if it makes me go to sleep any faster,” she suggested, hiding a smile into his collarbone that she was positive he could feel as she obediently let her eyes fall shut. She could hear his pulse beneath her ear where it was pressed to his chest, the rhythm steady and solid in a way that made the remaining tension drain out of her entirely.

“You want translations?” He had evidently taken her seriously - or maybe he just wanted an excuse to speak more Mando’a. She doubted he had ever had the opportunity before to do so with anyone outside his fellow Mandalorians.

“Only if you feel like it,” she allowed; the truth was that it really didn’t matter what he said. At this point, just hearing his voice kept her grounded enough in reality that she felt safe in dozing off against him.

He paused thoughtfully before saying at last, “Vercopa par vencuyot ti gar.” With the blank check she had given him, she wasn’t surprised that he didn’t bother translating. “Gar’ner.  Ni be’gar, baar bal runi.”

“Okay, I lied, I do want translations,” she mumbled around a yawn.

“Later,” the Mandalorian promised, his hand sliding out of her hair and back down until his broad palm settled against the base of her spine. “Sleep,  cyar’ika.”

“Still not convinced that’s not an insult.” Sari couldn’t help a faint smile despite herself as she curled in just a little closer to him, the arm wrapped around him drifting down just enough to find the hem of his shirt so that she could press her palm against the warm skin underneath. It was more of a risk than she had ever dared to take with him before, but as he tensed, she wondered for a moment if she had overstepped a boundary.

After a long moment, he relaxed into her touch again and tilted his head down to press his visor into her hair once more as he let out a soft sigh, long and deep and contented in a way she had never heard from him before. Between one breath and the next, he was asleep beneath her, his arm going slack around her waist and quiet snores filtering through the voice modulator in his helmet.

Sari hesitated before tilting her head up just enough to selfishly and impulsively brush her lips against the stubbled underside of his jaw, pausing just long enough to make sure he didn’t notice.

When he remained fast asleep, she relaxed and let her free hand slide up to smooth down Grogu’s back one last time, making sure he was safely tucked between her and the Mandalorian before she finally let sleep overtake her as well, surrounded by the closest thing to a family she could remember having away from Sorgan.

* * *

“We’re not going back to Nevarro,” Sari protested.

“Why not?” The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up at her curiously.

“Because the moment anyone from the Guild spots us landing, they’ll blow us up?” she pointed out.

“Knowing that there’s an Imperial base somewhere on the planet is the best lead we have to find out more about you,” he reminded her. “We don’t have to stop in town, there are plenty of lava fields we can land near that should give us a natural advantage if anyone sees us.”

“I’d rather just keep flying,” she insisted. “Whatever happened in my past isn’t important, but Grogu’s safety is.” She held up the baby in her arms pointedly and he babbled nonsensically, waving his tiny arms in the air. “See? He agrees,” she joked and the Mandalorian paused, clearly debating if she had actually translated for Grogu or not.

“Well, before you make any decisions, you’ll want to see the message that came in earlier while we were asleep,” he admitted after a moment, giving up on trying to figure it out as he pressed a button to bring up a hologram.

Sari gaped at the familiar sight of Greef Karga standing there, lowering Grogu back into her lap as Karga said, “My friend, if you are receiving this transmission, then that means you’re alive, and I hope Sari and the child are with you. You may be surprised to hear this, but I’m alive, too. I guess we can call it even.”

“Didn’t you shoot him?” Sari demanded, bewildered. “I’m pretty sure I saw you shoot him.”

“He had a beskar ingot tucked away in his coat,” the Mandalorian explained wryly. “It must’ve taken the brunt of the impact.”

“A lot has happened since we last saw each other,” Karga continued, his voice tinny on the recording, “The man who hired you and Sari is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild.”

“Oh, no, not the Guild, what a tragedy,” Sari deadpanned, brushing her finger over Grogu’s little head as he giggled and grabbed her finger to chew on her knuckle.

“We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out.” That caught her attention again and she glanced up at the transmission again, frowning. “If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You and Sari have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize. So here is my proposition: return to Nevarro, bring the child as bait.”

Sari had already begun shaking her head instinctively, but the Mandalorian reached out to cover her free hand with his.

“Listen to the rest,” he insisted.

“I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members as protection,” Karga added as Sari returned her attention reluctantly to the message, “Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name and Sari’s cleared with the Guild. No person of honor should be forced to live in exile the way the two of you have been. I await your arrival with optimism.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sari protested as the hologram faded. “It’s obviously a trap.”

“Of course it is,” the Mandalorian agreed. “But he’s right about one thing: they won’t stop coming after us until they get the kid. Once we take the Imp out, he’ll be safe, and while we’re there, we can find that Imperial base and see if there’s anything about you in their records. We can’t keep running forever.”

Grogu let Sari’s knuckle fall out of his mouth before reaching for the shift knob eagerly. The Mandalorian picked up the small silver ball, pressing it into Grogu’s hands absently, and the baby beamed back at him before focusing on rolling the shift knob between his palms while burbling quietly to himself.

“I guess we’re going back to Nevarro, then,” Sari confirmed with a sigh.

“Not without making a stop on the way,” the Mandalorian reassured her. “We could use all the help we can get if we’re going up against Imps, and if you remember, we know an ex-shock trooper on Sorgan who might be willing to lend us a hand.”

“Don’t suppose we’d have time to stop by the village?” Sari guessed wryly.

“Not this time.” The Mandalorian sounded sincerely regretful and she turned her hand over underneath his, lacing their fingers together.

“Fine, but we’re going back for at least a week or two after this is over,” she conceded. “Omera might kill us herself if she found out we were in the area and didn’t stop by.”

The Mandalorian huffed a quiet laugh that seemed only reserved for when the three of them were alone. “Deal.” He released her hand to set their course for Sorgan right as Grogu abandoned the shift knob, letting it fall with a loud clatter to the floor.

“Grogu, how many times do I have to tell you to just hand things to me instead of throwing them?” Sari scolded as she reached down to snatch up the shift knob before it could roll out of reach, passing it to the Mandalorian again so that he could screw it back into place.

“Feh,” Grogu said stubbornly before perking up hopefully and waving his hand deliberately at her.

“No, you’re not immediately forgiven just because you can sign that to me now,” she told him sternly and his large ears drooped in disappointment.

“He’s signing?” the Mandalorian asked as he glanced back at them. “I thought he was just waving at you.”

“So did I at first, but this is why he needs an extra two fingers on each hand,” Sari explained with a wry grin. “I figured it out yesterday, he’s actually trying to do this.” She folded the middle two fingers of her free hand down and waved it briefly. “It’s the simplified version of, well-” She hesitated before quickly finger-spelling _I-L-Y_ , which she knew was colloquially accepted as _I love you_ in Basic sign language, and decided to leave it up to the Mandalorian to decide for himself if she had only been demonstrating the sign or not.

“Oh.” There was an odd tone to his voice that she couldn’t quite place.

Grogu wriggled in her arms, turning around to wave at the Mandalorian next, and the Mandalorian froze, his gaze fixed on the child. Sari raised her eyebrows, curious to see what he would do.

“Nice try, kid. Can’t get out of trouble by using the same trick on me,” he said carefully after a moment, but she could hear the sudden roughness in his voice. Grogu pouted as he leaned heavily against Sari, giving up and reaching for her loose hair to tangle his fingers in the curls.

“Hey, be glad he’s only signing it now,” she added lightly over the green child’s head and the Mandalorian’s helmet snapped back up to her. “He’s been shoving the thought into my head every so often since Tatooine, at least he’s learning that there’s an easier way to say it.”

“Small favors,” he agreed, relaxing marginally as he turned back to the sea of stars in front of them, pulling them out of hyperspace as they approached the blue-and-green planet Sari had called home her whole life.

* * *

“Oh, good, Alma’s not in today,” Din heard Sari mutter with relief as they entered the common house. Grogu was settled in the carrier strapped around her front, fiddling with the ends of her now-braided hair to entertain himself. “She’d snitch to Omera the moment she spotted me,” Sari added as an explanation.

“Well, it’s especially good since we don’t need to stay long.” He nodded to their target in the middle of a laser-tethered boxing match with a male Zabrak, although the fight seemed to be drawing to a conclusion already as she knocked him down with one swift punch before lifting her arms in victory.

“I’m suddenly reconsidering several things about myself,” Sari said half to herself, sounding vaguely awed, and Din decidedly ignored the resulting spike of jealousy in response, even though he was about ninety-percent sure she had been joking.

“Pay up, mud-scuffers!” Cara Dune held her hand out, collecting credit chips from the patrons of the common house before spotting Din and Sari and cracking a grin at them. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you two here again so soon. Visiting Sari’s hometown again?”

“Actually, we were hoping you were looking for some work,” Din admitted.

“Are we not even gonna buy her a drink before we start talking business?” Sari joked and that was how they found themselves at a table, two cups of spotchka in front of Sari and Cara while Din chose to hold onto Grogu instead.

“I don’t care if you’re actually fifty, you’re still not old enough to drink,” he told the baby, who was whining earnestly in protest and reaching for the cup Sari was sipping out of.

Cara snorted with laughter around her own cup. “Kid’s still getting into all kinds of trouble, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Sari said emphatically, setting her drink down well out of Grogu’s reach. “It’s actually kind of the reason we’re here.”

Cara’s smile vanished immediately. “Guild still after him?” she asked warily.

“One of their agents reached out to us,” Din supplied, ignoring Grogu’s valiant attempts to escape his hold. “He wants me and Sari to bring the kid in as bait to take out the people who have taken over his town.”

“It seems pretty straightforward,” Sari added, reaching across to ruffle Grogu’s hair briefly, and the child immediately calmed down again at her touch. Din wondered distractedly how she knew what Grogu needed so easily, sometimes probably before Grogu himself knew. “They’re providing the firepower and the plan, and we’re the snare.”

“With the kid?” Cara confirmed, eyebrows furrowing in a way that Din knew meant she was on the verge of declining.

“That’s why we’re coming to you,” he pointed out.

“I don’t know,” Cara admitted, “I’ve been advised to lay low. If anybody runs my chain code, I’ll rot in a cell for the rest of my life.”

“I thought you were a veteran,” Din reminded her, passing Grogu over to Sari once he saw that her cup was empty and safe from the child’s clutches. She accepted Grogu easily, strapping him back into the carrier, and he wiggled his little legs happily as he settled in against her, his mouth widening into a contented smile that Din had to force himself to look away from.

“I’ve been a lot of things since and most of them carry a life sentence.” Cara accepted the credit chips the Zabrak she had been boxing against dropped in her hand as he passed their table. “Come back soon,” she called after him innocently before turning back to Din. “If I so much as book passage on a ship registered to the New Republic-”

“We’ve got a ship,” Din interrupted her. “We can bring you there and back with a handsome reward, and you can live free of worry.”

“I’m already free of worry.” Cara gestured at the common house around them. “And I’m not in the mood to play soldier anymore, especially fighting some local warlord.”

“He’s not a local warlord,” he corrected, “He’s Imperial.”

She paused before smirking and draining her cup of spotchka. “I’m in.”

“You’re not gonna like it, kiddo,” Sari warned suddenly and Din glanced over to see Grogu reaching plaintively yet again for her empty cup. “I’m warning you, it’s going to taste bad and you’re gonna regret-”

Grogu cut her off with a loud cry, flailing his tiny arms, and she rolled her eyes before deliberately dabbing her fingertip into one of the remaining droplets of spotchka at the bottom of the cup and letting Grogu pull her finger into his mouth. Din had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a snort of laughter despite himself as the child’s small green face abruptly contorted with disgust and he shoved Sari’s hand away quickly, sputtering to get the taste out of his mouth.

“Told you so,” Sari said smugly as Cara burst out laughing at the indignant rage on Grogu’s tiny face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations (forgive any grammatical mistakes, this chapter's the first attempt I've made at actually constructing sentences in Mando'a):
> 
> Mesh’la: beautiful  
> Aliit ori’shya tal’din: Family is more than blood (I figured this saying would mean a lot to all three of them, since they're all foundlings of some kind)  
> Cyar’ika: darling; sweetheart (pronounced shar-EE-kah, where Sari's full name is pronounced SAR-ee-kah, so you can see the comparison Din was going for lol)  
> Vercopa par vencuyot ti gar: I wish for a future with you  
> Gar’ner: You are mine  
> Ni be’gar, baar bal runi: I am yours, body and soul
> 
> THE FLUFF, YOU GUYS. I CANNOT BE STOPPED. (Also, I see you stealing that kiss and signing your feelings, Sari, you little sneak. Can't let anyone know that you YEARN.)
> 
> They'll definitely discuss Sari's backstory eventually, but I figure Din realizes she needs the space to process it herself and definitely doesn't want to distract her by bringing up the peck on the cheek she'd given him - although frankly he might just be enough of a himbo that he doesn't realize she's actually into him like that (bless him, the poor man's trying) - so that's why he doesn't push her to talk about what they'd learned about her past or the kiss.
> 
> Meanwhile Grogu at the end of this chapter (as inspired by [this Tumblr post](https://froody.tumblr.com/post/190844703094/me-removes-my-cat-from-my-lap-to-do-something)): Mother is...evil? Mother is unyielding? Mother is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the galaxy as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this spaceship.
> 
> I imagine Grogu's internal monologue as [Miette the cat](https://twitter.com/TriciaLockwood/status/1108102037072433153?s=20) the moment literally anything inconveniences him tbh.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari and Din amass an eclectic team in preparation for the trap they're walking into.

“I think this might be the first time he’s actually gotten mad at me,” Sari said in disbelief as Grogu adamantly slapped her hands away for the third time when she attempted to pick him up from the co-pilot’s seat of the Razor Crest. He pouted up at her to confirm that he was indeed still stewing with anger for the stunt she had pulled on Sorgan.

“Well, you _did_ feed him a drop of some pretty strong spotchka,” Cara pointed out with wry amusement from where she was watching near the doorway to the bridge.

“Hey, my adoptive dad did the same thing to me when I was six, I survived it.” Sari shrugged one shoulder, noticing the way the Mandalorian’s helmet turned sharply in her direction in silent disapproval and adding as an explanation, “In his defense, I was being a brat and trying to sneak a sip from his cup. And both my mom and Omera gave him hell over it for weeks after. Besides, now _someone_ knows better than to try grabbing other people’s drinks.” She raised an eyebrow pointedly at Grogu, who blew a disgruntled raspberry at her in return.

“Let him sulk,” the Mandalorian conceded, climbing to his feet from the pilot’s seat. “He’ll get over it.”

Reluctantly, Sari gave up on trying to pick the child up when he swatted away her hands yet again, following the Mandalorian and Cara down to the main corridor of the Razor Crest.

“Is he gonna be okay up there on his own?” Cara peered up at the bridge warily.

“He should be fine,” Sari reassured her. “He’s too small to reach any of the controls, anyway.” Grogu let out a shriek of protest above them and Sari winced, earning a snort of laughter from Cara as she called back up the ladder, “I’m sorry, but it’s true!”

“Here,” the Mandalorian said to get Cara’s attention, opening the weapons vault for her to examine the contents. “Take your pick.”

Cara’s eyebrows rose in appreciation as she eyed the various blaster pistols and rifles lined up in the vault before selecting a pistol for herself. “You trust this contact of yours?”

“Not particularly,” the Mandalorian admitted. “Last time Sari and I were in Nevarro on Guild business, we had a run-in with him.”

“Then why are we going?” Cara asked as she holstered the gun.

“You saw what happened on Sorgan,” Sari pointed out, hopping up onto the low table against the wall and letting her legs dangle freely as she added, “Hunters keep coming after us. Grogu won’t be safe until the Imp who keeps sending them is dead.”

“And you two are okay bringing him back there?” Cara raised an eyebrow again.

“Not at all, that’s why we’re bringing you,” the Mandalorian reminded her.

Sari stumbled off the table she’d been sitting on as the Razor Crest banked sharply all of a sudden, the ship rolling under her feet.

“What the-?” She scrambled to follow the Mandalorian up the ladder to the bridge, gaping at the sight of Grogu yanking on one of the levers and steering the ship while giggling wildly. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she complained. “The universe _does_ love proving me wrong. How did he even _reach_ that lever?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to need someone to watch him,” Cara said with a wry shake of her head as the Mandalorian scooped Grogu up, passing the now-grumpy child back to Sari before turning to the controls. “Any chance you’re staying back with the ship, Sari?”

“And let you two have all the fun without me?” Sari deadpanned, settling Grogu on her hip and rubbing his back apologetically when he narrowed his eyes in a pointed glare, clearly still upset with her. “Not happening. Whatever the plan is, I’m going with you.”

“Big shock, she didn’t listen to me when I suggested she stay behind,” the Mandalorian deadpanned and Sari elbowed the beskar pauldron covering his shoulder. As usual, he didn’t react, too focused on steadying the ship again. “We’re going to need someone we can trust, which is why we’re a few minutes out from our next stop now.” He tapped a button to bring them back out of hyperspace as Arvala-7 loomed ahead of them.

“Arvala-7? Isn’t that the place where you found the kid?” Cara’s eyebrows shot up high on her forehead as she read the planet’s name off the galactic map on the control panel. “Who’d be there that you trust?”

“An Ugnaught named Kuiil helped us get the Crest running again when we were stranded there,” Sari explained, ignoring how Grogu smacked his hand against her shoulder in a silent demand to be put down. “If anyone would be willing to keep Grogu safe apart from the three of us, it’s him.”

* * *

“It hasn’t grown much,” Kuiil noted as he examined Grogu curiously before gesturing to the hover-pod in the corner of his home in a silent invitation to set the child down.

In relief, Sari settled Grogu in the pod and watched him nestle into it with a contented sigh; he had at least forgiven her for feeding him a drop of spotchka once she had cuddled him enough on their way down to Arvala-7.

“I’m thinking it might be a strandcast,” the Mandalorian said and Sari wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not; it was often hard to tell when the modulator in his helmet filtered out some of the sarcasm in his voice.

“I don’t think it was engineered,” Kuiil said with a shake of his head, “I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved, too ugly.”

“Rude, the both of you,” Sari said, offended on Grogu’s behalf as the child wrinkled his nose in resentment. “It’s okay, bud, I think you’re cute even if you’re not engineered,” she reassured Grogu fondly and he gurgled back up at her, mollified.

“I only speak the truth,” Kuiil said somewhat apologetically before eyeing Cara critically. “This one, on the other hand, looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora.”

“Thanks,” Cara deadpanned.

“This is Cara Dune,” the Mandalorian introduced them. “She was a shock trooper.”

“A dropper?” Kuiil regarded Cara with new interest.

“Did you serve?” Cara raised her eyebrows in return.

“On the other side, I’m afraid,” Kuiil admitted, “But I’m proud to say I paid out my clan’s debt, and now I serve no one but myself.”

Sari could see Cara frown and prepare to say something, but then a long, lanky frame ducked into the building and the Mandalorian was on his feet in an instant, drawing his gun and putting himself between the new figure and Sari and Grogu. Cara followed his lead, drawing her blaster as well.

“Is that-?” Sari asked, bewildered as she peered around the Mandalorian at the droid holding a tea tray and swiveling its lenses around the room awkwardly to examine their faces.

“The droid I was with when I met you, yes,” the Mandalorian confirmed, not looking away from the droid.

“Please lower your weapons,” Kuiil urged, looking between them and the IG-11 unit anxiously. “He will not harm you.”

“That thing was programmed to kill the kid,” the Mandalorian pointed out.

“Not anymore,” Kuiil protested.

“It almost put a laser blast through Sari’s head,” the Mandalorian retorted.

Sari grimaced at the memory even as she climbed to her feet warily, sliding her hand beneath the Mandalorian’s cape and pressing it tentatively to the small of his back - one of the few places she knew wasn’t covered with beskar - so that she could feel the warmth radiating through the dark shirt he wore beneath his armor. He flinched instinctively at her touch, but his helmet tilted in her direction questioningly.

“Kuiil’s right, I don’t think it means any harm,” she explained.

“Would anyone care for some tea?” IG-11 asked, picking up a cup of tea and holding it out.

“See?” Sari gestured to the droid with her free hand. “It’s fine. Put the blasters down, both of you.”

To her relief, Cara relaxed and lowered her gun, but Sari didn’t miss how her eyes darted to where Sari’s palm was pressed to the Mandalorian’s back before her eyebrow quirked in Sari’s direction. She chose to ignore it as the Mandalorian kept his visor fixed on her.

“You can’t assume it’s fine just because it offered you tea,” he pointed out frustratedly, but he had already begun to lower his blaster again.

“Sure I can. Watch.” She ignored his obvious irritation as she dropped her hand from his back, reaching out and accepting the offered teacup from the droid. “Thank you, IG,” she said politely before taking a pointed sip of tea.

“You are most welcome,” it rattled off the scripted response and offered another cup to Cara that she took with a brief incline of her head before the droid retreated to the furthest corner of the room to await further instructions.

“Oh, stop it, it’s not poisoned,” Sari snapped at the Mandalorian when she caught him watching her, his shoulders tight with tension.

“Could be,” she heard him distinctly mutter under his breath, but when she raised an eyebrow, he wisely chose not to repeat himself as Cara snorted with amusement around her own first sip of tea.

“Please sit,” Kuiil said, gesturing to the Mandalorian’s abandoned seat, and he grudgingly took it again. “The droid was left behind in the wake of your destruction,” Kuiil explained as Sari settled on the ground beside Grogu’s pod. “I found it laying where it fell, devoid of all life.”

Sari watched Grogu for a moment to see if he would try reaching for her cup, but he seemed to have learned his lesson and kept his hands to himself, although his dark eyes were still fixed on the cup curiously as she took another sip of tea. Taking pity on him, she pressed the cup to his mouth as an offering and he eyed her warily before taking a tiny sip and relaxing when it didn’t taste as bad as the spotchka had.

“I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic,” Kuiil continued even as the Mandalorian turned his attention to Sari and Grogu, watching her feed the child some of her tea in between her own sips. “Little remained of its neural harness. Reconstruction was quite difficult, but not impossible. It had to learn everything from scratch. This is something that cannot be taught with the twist of a spanner. It requires patience, repetition. I spent day after day reinforcing its development with patience and affirmation. It developed a personality as its experiences grew.”

“Is it still a hunter?” the Mandalorian asked, not lifting his gaze from Grogu as the child emptied Sari’s cup and pushed it away from himself with an “all done” sign back at Sari, something for which she rewarded him with a smile.

“No, but it will protect,” Kuiil answered firmly.

“That’s something we could use,” Sari conceded before adding as the Mandalorian turned his head sharply back to her, “I know you don’t like it, but you said it yourself, Mando, we need all the help we can get. Someone needs to look after Grogu while we’re gone, and if IG-11 can help-”

“I don’t want it anywhere near Grogu or you,” he interrupted her. “It almost killed you just to get to him.”

“It’s not programmed to do so anymore,” Sari retorted.

“She is right,” Kuiil agreed, “Droids are not good or bad, but merely neutral reflections of those who imprint them.”

“I’ve seen otherwise,” the Mandalorian said darkly and Sari resolved to get the full story of his mistrust of droids out of him someday.

“Do you trust me?” Kuiil demanded and the Mandalorian regarded him for a long moment.

“From what I can tell, yes,” he allowed.

“Then you will trust my work. IG-11 will join me,” Kuiil insisted, “And we do it not for payment, but to protect the child from Imperial slavery. None will be free until the old ways are gone forever.”

The Mandalorian cast one last skeptical look at Sari, who nodded briefly back to him, before sighing heavily. “Okay.”

“The blurrgs will join me as well,” Kuiil added.

“The blurrgs?” the Mandalorian echoed incredulously.

Kuiil’s tone was still dry as a desert, but Sari didn’t miss the slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he answered simply, “I have spoken.”

* * *

“IG, would you please pull up your functional code base for me?” Sari requested as she settled on a crate in front of the IG-11 unit waiting in the corner of the Razor Crest's main hallway.

“Of course,” IG-11 agreed, opening a panel with a slot for her to connect the datapad in her hand to.

“I thought you trusted my work,” Kuiil pointed out disapprovingly over her shoulder.

“I do, but it’s a sanity check for myself to look through it, anyway,” she reassured him, scanning through the code on the datapad and examining it. “The original programming is still there, but the conditional scenarios around it seem to be pretty solid. You did a great job re-routing its base functionality to only activate if its charge is in danger.”

“Of course I did,” Kuiil said dismissively, but softened a little at the praise as he pressed a hand to her shoulder briefly. “Do not misunderstand me. I would not have brought IG-11 with me if I did not trust it to keep the child safe.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” Sari admitted. “But Grogu’s come to mean a lot to me and Mando. I don’t want to take any chances, especially not with his safety.”

“Yes. It’s clear you have both come to mean much to him as well.” Kuiil glanced over meaningfully to where Grogu was nestled in his new pod, watching with wide eyes as Cara and the Mandalorian settled across from each other with a crate of supplies between them that they used as a table.

“What’s the wager so far?” Sari called over to them, cracking a grin as she disconnected the datapad.

“Twenty on the winner,” Cara answered.

“I’ll add another ten into the pot if you win, Cara,” Sari offered as she made her way over to take a seat beside Grogu’s pod.

“Hey,” the Mandalorian protested mock-indignantly.

“Mando, have you _seen_ her biceps?” Sari said pointedly. “I don’t care how good a fighter you are, girl can _get it_.”

Cara snorted with laughter even as the Mandalorian shook his head wryly, placing his elbow on the table and extending his hand for Cara to grasp. With his silent nod to begin the contest, they began to arm-wrestle, each of them straining to push the other’s hand down onto the surface of the crate.

“I got you, Mando,” Cara said around a sharp inhale as she managed to get some leverage, forcing the Mandalorian’s hand slightly to the left.

“Care to double the bet, then?” The Mandalorian sounded slightly winded even through the modulator, so Sari knew they were both actually putting at least some effort into the contest.

“Don’t worry, I’m not out to steal your girl from you,” Cara teased.

“Excuse me?” Sari nearly choked on air, startled.

“I wasn’t worried,” the Mandalorian answered breezily.

“Great, because I’m suddenly _very_ worried,” Sari pointed out indignantly, eyebrows rising high on her forehead. “Who’s stealing me?”

A sudden spike of alarm that wasn’t her own coursed through her and within the next instant, Cara dropped the Mandalorian’s hand as her fingers went to her throat instead. She gasped for air, as if she was being strangled by invisible fingers, and Sari followed the invisible thread of energy to Grogu, whose eyes were shut tightly with his hand outstretched.

“Grogu, _stop_!” she blurted out, horrified as she put the pieces together, and the Mandalorian’s helmet swiveled sharply to face the child.

“Stop it, no!” He scooped Grogu up, shaking him gently. “Cara’s our friend! Our _friend_! Knock it off!”

Grogu opened his eyes with a startled squeak, distracted, and Cara slumped forward, bracing herself on the crate in front of her as she gulped down much-needed oxygen.

“Are you hurt?” Sari asked her worriedly.

“No, but that was _not_ okay,” she rasped, rubbing her throat as she narrowed her eyes at the baby in the Mandalorian’s hands.

“Very curious,” Kuiil noted quietly as he glanced between them.

“‘Curious?’” Cara repeated angrily. “That thing almost killed me!”

“Hang on, there has to be a reason he did that,” Sari insisted, climbing to her feet and holding her hands out for Grogu, and the Mandalorian passed him over. She settled Grogu against her shoulder as the child began to keen quietly, his eyes welling with frightened tears. “What happened?” she asked quietly. “You can tell me, I won’t get mad.”

“You won’t get-?” Cara began to echo incredulously, but Sari lifted her free hand to silence her as Grogu reached up a hand to press it tentatively to her cheek.

_Cara and the Mandalorian were fighting, their arms locked in some kind of struggle, and Grogu was beginning to feel afraid. He had seen his father take out even larger threats with ease, so why was he struggling with this one?_

_“Who’s stealing me?” Sari asked from beside him, her eyes wide and nervous, and a twinge of panic went through his little heart as it began to beat faster in his chest. He didn’t want anyone stealing his mother away._

“Oh,” Sari breathed as she blinked herself back to reality, dazed by the intensity of the events from Grogu’s perspective.

“Sari?” The Mandalorian closed the space between them, his hand grabbing her shoulder as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, just light-headed.” She shook her head to try and clear it; she could address how Grogu seemed to consider her and the Mandalorian as his parents later, when tensions weren’t so high. “He thought we were under attack and got scared.”

Grogu buried his face into Sari's collarbone with a hiccuping sob as tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed against the front of her shirt.

“I know, bud, you were just trying to protect us,” she soothed him. “But you can’t do that anymore, okay?”

Grogu sniffled, but pressed a tiny nod into her collarbone.

“The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense,” Kuiil noted as Sari rubbed the child's back, leaning half-consciously into the Mandalorian’s side.

“What is it?” the Mandalorian demanded over her head, his arm sliding around her shoulders to keep her upright.

“What it is, I don’t know. But what it does, this I’ve heard rumors of.” When Sari looked up from the sobbing child in her arms, Kuiil was watching the two of them warily.

“What, when you served the Empire?” Cara spat, having caught her breath as she climbed to her feet.

“When I was _sold_ to the Empire in indentured servitude,” Kuiil retorted.

“Yet somehow you walk free,” Cara sneered.

“ _Okay_ ,” Sari said sharply, shrugging the Mandalorian’s arm off her shoulders. “If you two are going to go for each other’s throats, I’m going to hole up with the literal crying baby upstairs. See you when we get to Nevarro.”

Without bothering to wait for Cara and Kuiil to continue their argument, she turned on her heel, climbing up the ladder and dropping unceremoniously into the co-pilot’s seat before hauling Grogu close again as he continued to whimper softly.

“I know, sweetheart,” she murmured soothingly, pressing a kiss between his eyebrows as he blinked up at her with large, wet eyes. “I know you were just scared for us.” She thumbed away a stray tear from his cheek and he leaned into her touch, chirping apologetically. “It’s okay, you can tell Cara you’re sorry later,” she reassured him.

The door to the bridge slid shut behind the Mandalorian as he entered, sinking into the pilot’s chair with a heavy sigh.

“Fight’s over downstairs.”

“Great. We’re still staying here.” Sari settled Grogu back against her shoulder as he clung to her.

“I don’t blame you, it’s still pretty tense down there,” the Mandalorian agreed wryly. “I got Kuiil working on making a better pod for the kid, though, so that should keep him busy and out of Cara’s way until we get to Nevarro.” His helmet dropped to Grogu, who peered back at him warily. “I’m not mad at you,” he said to the child. “But Sari’s right, you can’t ever do that again.”

Grogu tightened his hold on Sari’s shirt, pressing his tiny nose into her neck and nodding briefly.

“He understands,” Sari confirmed before ducking her head to press a kiss against the top of the child’s head. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She didn’t know how true that would be, considering what they were going up against in Nevarro, but the platitude seemed to release the tension in Grogu’s little body as he slumped against her, exhausted with relief and the exertion of his powers. Instinctively, she began to hum under her breath as she rubbed his back until he dozed off against her, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Where did you learn that lullaby?” The Mandalorian’s voice jerked Sari out of her concentration on soothing Grogu, her hand stilling on the child's back.

“I’ve heard bits and pieces of it in dreams all my life,” she admitted, “I think my mom used to sing it to me - my real mom, I mean.”

He hesitated before offering quietly, “Mine did, too. The same song.”

She couldn’t help but smile faintly, silently adding the new piece of information to the slowly-growing list of things she knew about him. “Small galaxy.”

“Not really,” he pointed out, but she could hear the returned smile behind it.

“Do you know the words?” she asked curiously.

“I remember them,” he confirmed, although his tone had turned somewhat wary.

“Great, because I don’t.” She cracked a grin despite herself at his sudden apprehension. “I only remember the tune because of a music box I remember playing with.”

“I’m not singing for him,” the Mandalorian retorted, “I’ll break every window of this ship if I try.”

“You can’t possibly sound worse than my fucked-up vocal cords,” Sari pointed out. “And before you complain, I’m not being mean to myself or anything, I literally mean they’re damaged from over a decade of not talking.”

“I wouldn’t’ve guessed,” he said after a moment, seemingly surprised by the revelation.

“Really? You never wondered why I constantly sound like I have a sore throat?” she asked wryly.

“Your voice is nice as it is,” he admitted, sounding vaguely embarrassed. “It never occurred to me that it was damaged.”

“Oh.” She flushed slightly, swallowing back the lump in her throat as she managed to get out, “Well, you’d be the first to say that.”

The Mandalorian was silent for a long moment before he sighed and held out his hands. “Give him here.”

Sari passed Grogu over carefully, doing her best not to wake him, and the Mandalorian nestled him against his own shoulder, rubbing his back when he stirred with a sleepy gurgle.

“K'uur,  ad’ika, it’s just me,” he soothed the child, his voice softer than Sari had ever heard it.

Grogu obediently settled back down as the Mandalorian began to hum quietly, the same lilting melody Sari had heard brief snatches of in dreams throughout her life coming out in a deep, rich baritone.

A few moments passed before she realized he was actually murmuring the lyrics under his breath instead, but she didn’t bother straining to catch the words, instead turning in her seat comfortably to watch them as the stars drifted past the window outside.

* * *

“Grogu, do you have something to tell Cara?” Sari asked pointedly as she settled Grogu into the pod Kuiil had created for him and the child tentatively held a hand out to Cara.

The ex-shock trooper raised an eyebrow at the child. “What is it?”

Grogu chirped apologetically and Sari translated, “He says he’s sorry for hurting you.”

Cara glanced between the two of them warily. “You can actually talk to him now?”

“Did I not mention that?” Sari grinned wryly. “Yeah, the two of us have been working on talking to each other in our heads. And before you say anything, I’m well aware of how crazy I just sounded. In any case, shake hands with the baby before he beats himself up any further.”

Cara hesitated, but took Grogu’s tiny hand between two of her fingers to shake it gently. “Alright, it’s okay, kid, no harm done,” she said, a hint of fondness slipping into her voice despite herself, and Grogu beamed back up at her with relief.

“The pod looks great, thank you,” Sari added to Kuiil as she examined the metal container, taking in the comfortable blanketed padding inside and the various hover controls that could easily be mapped to the Mandalorian’s wrist gauntlet. “Are you sure we can’t pay you for it?”

“So long as the child is secure and content, that is all I require as payment,” Kuiil insisted.

“Alright, Karga and his team should be meeting us a couple miles out.” The Mandalorian slid down the ladder, landing beside Sari and examining the pod briefly.

Once he had confirmed that it seemed safe and comfortable, he gave Kuiil a grateful nod and then lowered the ramp of the Razor Crest so that they could lead the three blurrgs they had brought out from the cargo hold. Sari had been unnerved enough by the reptilian creatures that she would be riding with the Mandalorian on one of them while Cara and Kuiil took the other two. To appease the Mandalorian’s mistrust of droids, they had agreed that IG-11 would remain on the ship and out of the way, so the droid had settled in a corner of the ship to await their return.

“She won’t harm you,” Kuiil pointed out when she edged away from the blurrg baring its sharp teeth at her.

“Tell that to my old vambrace,” the Mandalorian deadpanned as he climbed onto the blurrg’s back. “That thing was shredded to pieces by one of your blurrgs.”

“You did try to roast her,” Sari reminded him, having been told the story by Kuiil back on Arvala-7, but reluctantly accepted his outstretched hand as she climbed onto the blurrg behind him, looping her arms around his waist to keep herself upright and ignoring Cara’s pointedly-raised eyebrow in their direction.

“You good?” the Mandalorian asked over his shoulder.

“I’m good. Did you pair up with Grogu’s pod?” she returned and he lifted his wrist gauntlet briefly, gesturing for the pod to follow them as Cara and Kuiil climbed onto their respective blurrgs. Grogu giggled as the pod zoomed along after them, clearly having missed hovering around.

Riding on a blurrg was far less comfortable than Sari had anticipated, even though she hadn’t exactly thought the humpbacked sideways-comma-shaped creature would be comfortable to begin with. She had to tighten her hold on the Mandalorian just to keep herself from being thrown off by the awkward bouncing movement of the animal beneath them.

“Sure you’re holding on tight enough?” the Mandalorian teased.

“Why is it that you only develop a sense of humor when it’s at my expense?” Sari demanded and ignored how his responding chuckle, low enough for only her to hear, made her heart leap into her throat.

“I can’t help that you make it so easy.” One of his hands covered hers briefly, the leather of his glove sliding over her fingers, before he focused back on guiding the blurrg onward across the dry, cracked lava fields of Nevarro.

“Well, this just got a whole lot more awkward,” Sari sighed when she spotted the party of five waiting for them ahead.

She recognized two distinct faces among them - Greef Karga himself and Kal Soren at his right side, both looking grim and pale. The other three flanking them seemed to be Nikto mercenaries, none of whom Sari had seen before.

“Why’s that?” Cara questioned, glancing at them curiously.

“Karga brought my ex as one of his guys,” Sari explained with a grimace.

“Should we be worried?” the Mandalorian asked quietly.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “Kal let me go last time, but I don’t know how much things might’ve changed since.”

“Sorry about the remote rendezvous, Mando,” Karga called when they were close enough to hear. “But things have gotten complicated since you were last here.” He eyed Cara and Kuiil warily. “It appears introductions are in order. Seems we’ve both provided a security detail.” Sari raised an eyebrow at Kal, who pointedly avoided meeting her eyes. “I recommend the shock trooper guards the ship, these lava fields are lousy with Jawas.”

“She’s coming with us,” the Mandalorian answered stiffly.

“The town is now run by ex-Empire. If a rebel dropper is with us, they’ll all get their hackles up,” Karga protested.

“Think up whatever cover story you like, but she’s coming,” the Mandalorian insisted.

Karga sighed heavily. “Fine, fine. At least cover your tattoo. No need to flaunt it,” he said to Cara, who glowered at him, but obediently tugged her arm band over the stripes on her bicep. “Now, where is the little one?” Karga’s eyes immediately fell to the pod and the Mandalorian’s hand dropped to his blaster instinctively.

Sari pressed a hand against the small of his back for a moment to reassure him before sliding off the blurrg, landing on the ground beside the pod and ushering it forward. Kal stood just behind Karga, his eyes darting warily between Sari and the pod beside her.

“Hey, Sari,” he offered tentatively when she was close enough and she managed a tiny smile back at him, relieved to hear the hopeful friendliness in his voice.

“Hi, Kal.”

“So this little bogwing is what all the fuss is about?” Karga reached into the pod and scooped Grogu up to examine him.

The child whined nervously and Sari had to resist the urge to brush her finger over Grogu’s head instinctively to soothe him as her hand fell to the handle of her blaster just in case she needed to pull it out. She noticed Kal’s eyes following the movement of her hand; as casual as he sounded, she knew the meeting was still a mission to him.

“What a precious little creature,” Karga said cheerfully as he set Grogu back down in the pod and Sari relaxed marginally, releasing her blaster again. “I can see why you didn’t want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head.”

“His,” Sari corrected. “His name’s Grogu.”

“You named him _that_?” Kal asked, grinning easily now that the danger had passed. “Kind of a weird name, Sari, even for you.”

Grogu chirped indignantly back up at him, wrinkling his tiny nose.

“That’s the name he came with. It’s a long story,” Sari admitted, not even remotely convinced she could explain the insanity of the last several weeks to Kal even if she wanted to. “Hey, wait, what do you mean ‘even for me?’” she added as the latter sentence registered, insulted.

“What, you don’t remember the stray mooka you adopted and named ‘Cheeps?’ ‘Cause _I_ remember Cheeps,” Kal teased and she flushed, mortified.

“See, now I’m thinking I shouldn’t’ve brought Soren along,” Karga chuckled as he held out a hand that Sari clasped in a brief handshake. “But he’s been on non-stop bounty missions since you took off with the kid here and insisted he be here for this meeting, too.”

Sari raised an eyebrow at Kal in a silent question, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the wan exhaustion lining every inch of his face. He shook his head back at her - a silent promise that they would discuss it later - so she let it go.

“In any case, I’m glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all,” Karga dismissed as he glanced over Sari’s head at the Mandalorian, who nodded briefly back to him. Sari took it as her cue to usher Grogu in his pod back over to their own party, accepting the Mandalorian’s hand and climbing back onto the blurrg behind him.

“The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell and camp out on the river bank, then make our way into town at first light,” Karga added.

With that, they were off, Karga and Kal taking the lead with their three Nikto companions and the Mandalorian, Sari, Kuiil, and Cara following behind on their blurrgs while Grogu rode in his hover-pod between them.

“Cheeps the mooka?” the Mandalorian said dryly as Sari pressed instinctively closer to him to keep from being accidentally knocked off the blurg, a hint of amusement back in his voice.

“Do I hear you taking my ex’s side?” she demanded sharply.

It was only because she was pressed against his back with her arms around his waist that she could feel his broad shoulders tremble slightly with a barely-stifled laugh.

“No, ma’am,” he answered carefully instead and she took the opportunity to pinch his side right underneath the beskar chest plate in retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> K'uur: hush  
> Ad'ika: little one; child (most Mando'a words are gender-neutral, from what I've seen)
> 
> The lullaby in this chapter that Sari and Din are talking about in this chapter is [the first track in the Spotify playlist I've made for this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29179800), so as of now, there are no more spoilers in the playlist lol. The music box version is also linked there (which will come back eventually *hint hint*).
> 
> I mainly tossed in that scene of Sari checking over IG-11's code just to scratch an itch of mine (as a software engineer myself, I feel like the show could use more codeslicers/hackers lol). Also, she may have brushed over it for the sake of the plot, but Grogu definitely called her and Din his parents, so she can't stay oblivious to their family dynamic for much longer lol.
> 
> The action is gonna start kicking off soon, though, fam. The season finale of Season 1 may be one of my favorite episodes of the entire show so far, so I'm really excited to get into it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which campfires are always fun for animal attacks in the middle of the night and heart-to-hearts.

“Bwah.” Grogu held out a cube of cooked meat in his tiny hand to Sari as an offering.

“Thank you for sharing,” she told him mock-solemnly, taking the cube and popping it into her mouth before feeding him a cube of his own. He accepted the food happily, swallowing it down and tapping the fingertips of his hands together to sign “more.”

As Sari obediently fed him another cube of meat, Greef Karga shook his head wryly from across the campfire they had built. “The little bugger’s a carnivore, who’d’ve guessed?”

“You haven’t lived until you’ve seen him scarf a frog down whole,” Sari deadpanned.

The Mandalorian snorted quietly at the memory from where he sat a few feet away against an outcropping of rock just beyond the reach of the firelight, although he remained tense with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Sari was glad she had set some food aside for him earlier on the Razor Crest and not told him that IG-11 had prepared it, because he had adamantly refused to eat anything that night so far.

Cara and Kuiil were silently tending to the blurrgs without speaking to each other, not quite having made up from their argument earlier, but they eyed the nearby Nikto mercenaries warily, at least willing to put their differences aside in the face of a common enemy. Kal lingered by the edge of the campsite, his sniper rifle set up to cover the dark lava fields as he kept first watch over the group. They would be trading out guard duty throughout the night, Sari knew, although she doubted any of them would be sleeping particularly well when they were all highly suspicious of each other.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Karga added, returning her attention to him as he examined Grogu from across the campfire. “They were ready to pay a king’s ransom for that kid. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie.”

Sari grimaced at the thought even as she signed to Grogu, _More or all done?_

The child wrinkled his nose briefly in thought before signing back, _All done._

“Good job, bud,” she told him, ruffling the wispy hair on top of his head fondly, and he gurgled back at her, eyes crinkling at the praise.

“I never knew you could sign,” Kal noted curiously.

She shrugged easily. “It never came up.”

Belatedly, it occurred to her that the Mandalorian had learned that fact and much more about her in less than a week than Kal had bothered to find out in five years. She wondered if Kal even knew which planet she had grown up on; she doubted it.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she hardly knew anything about him, either. Their conversations had only ever focused on their present - the missions they were tasked with, the bounties they earned, the beds they fell into together - but never their respective pasts.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” the Mandalorian addressed Karga, snapping Sari out of her thoughts.

“You, Sari, and I enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table, and you kill him.” Karga shrugged easily.

“And his reinforcements?” the Mandalorian prompted.

“They’re all ex-Empire,” Karga answered, “Once they lose their paycheck, they’ll all scatter.”

“That’s not a guarantee,” Sari pointed out with a frown, wiping her hands free of grease on the edge of her shirt before tucking a blanket around Grogu as the child yawned.

“Then if, for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realize that I’m their best path to alternative employment, and they elect to react impulsively, then these four fine Guild hunters along with that battle-hardened shock trooper will cut down anyone who bucks.” Karga gestured around the campfire.

“How many will there be?” the Mandalorian demanded.

“No more than four.” Karga dusted dirt off his pants as he climbed to his feet. “He travels with, at most, a fire team. Trust me, nothing could go wrong.”

“Why would you jinx it like that?” Sari sighed and sure enough, everything decided to go wrong precisely at that moment.

A reptavian dove down from the dark sky suddenly, knocking Karga over, and Sari slammed the button on the pod to close the panels over an alarmed Grogu before grabbing her blaster and rolling to her feet as the reptavian snatched up a blurrg and took off with it.

“No!” Kuiil shouted. “Drop her!”

Even as Sari wheeled around to take aim at the reptavian, Cara had brought up her rifle already, shooting the reptavian through the wing and making it drop the blurrg several yards away. Even without approaching them, Sari knew the blurrg was dead and grimaced as she dispatched the reptavian scrabbling to its clawed feet with a shot of her own to its head; without the use of its wing, it wouldn’t have survived long, anyway.

Another reptavian swooped down from the sky, snatching up one of the Niktos and carrying him off into the darkness while a third reptavian grabbed another blurrg. Blaster fire erupted around them as everyone attempted to bring the reptavians down and free the captive Nikto and blurrg, but it was no use as the reptavians darted up and out of reach.

The Mandalorian aimed his flamethrower jet at a fourth reptavian that dove at him, bringing it down in a ball of flames that he kicked away from the campsite unceremoniously, and the remaining two dragon-like creatures vanished into the sky with their Nikto and blurrg prizes and screeches that echoed in their wake.

“I think we’re clear,” Kal called and despite herself, Sari glanced over to make sure he was safe. His hair was ruffled and he looked pale and alarmed, but he seemed uninjured, to her relief.

“Are you hurt?” The Mandalorian was at her side in the next instant, his helmet tilting up and down as he examined her briefly before glancing around. “Where’s Grogu?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him before reaching down to the pod beside her and opening it again. “I closed the pod on him just in time,” she added as Grogu blinked up at them, wide-eyed and startled.

The Mandalorian let out a soft breath of relief as Sari scooped Grogu out of the pod to nestle him against her shoulder, his hand moving instinctively to rest against Grogu’s back and reassure himself silently of the child’s safety, but then Greef Karga let out a groan of pain and their attention turned to him as he lay on the ground, clutching his arm.

“He’s hurt badly,” Kuiil informed them grimly, looking up from where he’d been kneeling at Karga’s side to inspect the wound.

“I’m fine,” Karga dismissed, but then hissed as Kuiil prodded at the wound. “Ow.”

“Anybody got some bacta?” Sari passed Grogu over to the Mandalorian before moving to inspect the wound herself.

“Got a medpack here,” Cara answered as she dug through their supplies before passing over a syringe to Sari. “They got you bad,” she added sympathetically to Karga, her nose wrinkling as she took in the deep gash on his arm.

“How bad?” the Mandalorian asked as Sari pressed the needle just above the wound on Karga’s forearm and injected the medicine into his bloodstream. It wasn’t as effective as bacta, and she knew just by looking at the dark lines of reptavian poison spreading along his veins that it wouldn’t work fast enough.

“Well, the poison’s spreading fast, so it’s pretty bad,” she answered over her shoulder.

“So this is how it happens,” Karga said wryly, lifting his eyes to the dark sky above.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Sari told him with a roll of her eyes. “You’re not dying yet. Cara, do we have anything else?” she added to the former shock trooper, who searched through their supplies before shaking her head grimly.

“Great,” Karga sighed heavily.

“Kal, anything?” Sari demanded, turning just enough to see Kal shaking his head as well from where he knelt by the remaining two Niktos and their supplies.

“Are you sure?” the Mandalorian said suddenly and Sari glanced over her shoulder to see him staring at Grogu, whose eyes were scrunched tightly shut with his tiny fingers curled around the Mandalorian’s gloved thumb. The child chirped in response, opening his eyes again, and the Mandalorian hesitated before setting him down. “Alright, kid, give it a shot.”

“You let him talk to you?” Sari asked, watching as Grogu toddled towards her.

The Mandalorian shrugged. “Desperate times. And you know what he’s capable of.”

“I do,” she agreed, giving Grogu a faint encouraging smile when he reached her and ushering him closer to Karga. “Go ahead, kiddo.”

“What’s he doing?” Karga demanded as Grogu stretched a hand out, closing his eyes again in concentration. “Is he trying to eat me?”

“Please, he’d take a frog over you any day,” Sari answered dryly, settling her hand on Grogu’s back to steady him as he wobbled before sinking back heavily against her, exhausted. She scooped him up, settling him against her shoulder as Kal inched closer warily, examining Karga’s arm.

“The kid healed him,” he said, startled, and Karga glanced down at his arm to find that the gash was indeed gone, the skin unmarred and the dark poison lines vanishing as quickly as they had appeared.

“It takes a lot out of him, but healing is just one of the things he can do,” Sari admitted, rubbing Grogu’s back soothingly as the child yawned, nestling his head against the crook of her neck. “You did great,” she praised him and he burbled sleepily back at her before nodding off.

“No wonder the Imps are so desperate to get their hands on him,” Kal realized, grimacing instinctively, and Sari felt a twinge of hope that maybe he really did understand the situation they were in enough to help them.

“How’re you feeling now?” she asked Karga, who flexed his arm experimentally.

“Never better,” he answered, though he was still glancing between her and Grogu warily. “I owe that kid my life.”

“Yeah, join the club.” Sari climbed to her feet carefully, not daring to jostle Grogu accidentally as she moved to set him in his pod. “You saw what happened on our way out of Nevarro last time,” she added to Karga over her shoulder. “If it hadn't been for Grogu, that laser blast would’ve killed me.”

“Sari’s right,” the Mandalorian said quietly, clearly reluctant to relive the memory. “I didn’t have any bacta on the Crest to help her. She would’ve been dead within the hour if it hadn’t been for the kid healing her enough to make it.”

“You got shot, Sari?” Kal looked up from Karga’s arm, concerned at the revelation.

“Not long after you let me go, yeah.” She shrugged. “I was fine.” Kal’s eyebrows had already begun rising on his forehead, a sign that he was going to press her for details, but she waved it off before he could say anything. “No, really. Took a couple weeks for it to heal the rest of the way without bacta, but I was alright after that. Got an ugly scar now to show for it.”

She tapped her side briefly and didn’t miss how the Mandalorian’s helmet swiveled down instinctively towards the spot as his shoulders tensed, as if remembering how bad the wound had initially looked.

“Only one of the blurrgs survived the attack, but the rest of our supplies are unharmed,” Kuiil noted as he examined the damage the reptavians had done to their campsite.

“Should we pack up and keep moving?” Kal asked, but the Mandalorian was already shaking his head.

“It’s late. The longer we’re out in the dark, the more likely we are to get attacked again. If we stick out the night here and everyone gets some rest, we can continue at dawn.” He glanced at Karga briefly, who nodded in agreement, although his eyes kept darting to the pod Grogu was nestled in, his eyebrows deeply furrowed in thought.

“Alright,” Kal agreed reluctantly, returning to his sniper rifle and rotating it back to set it up. “I’ll keep watch for the next couple hours, but you’re up next, dropper.” Cara gave him a thumbs-up of approval.

“Are you and the kid okay?” the Mandalorian asked Sari under his breath.

“We’re fine,” she reassured him, tucking a blanket in around Grogu as she spoke. “You?” When he nodded in confirmation, she elbowed him in the side lightly. “Then get some sleep. Cara will wake you when it’s your turn to keep watch.”

“What about you?”

Sari glanced instinctively over at Kal, who tilted his head in a silent invitation to join him.

“I think Kal and I are overdue for a talk,” she admitted. “But I’ll sleep after.”

“You sure about this?” The Mandalorian turned his helmet to stare mistrustfully at Kal, who flushed as he immediately spun back around, pretending as if he had never looked their way at all.

Sari rolled her eyes. “Quit glaring at him,” she scolded mildly, elbowing the Mandalorian’s side again gently between the plates of beskar armor. “You’re going to make me start thinking you’re jealous.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet snapped back down to her, clearly startled. “And why would I be jealous?” he asked warily.

“Because my ex is less crazy than yours,” she pointed out and he visibly relaxed, shoving her shoulder gently in silent retribution.

“Go talk to your not-crazy ex.”

Unable to help a grin, Sari complied, heading across the campsite to take a seat beside Kal.

* * *

Despite his best efforts to mind his own business, Din couldn’t help but focus as much of his attention as possible on Sari and Kal sitting beside each other on the other side of the campsite with their backs facing him, their shoulders pressed together comfortably and their legs dangling freely from where they sat on the rocky outcropping. Neither of them had said a word to each other yet, but he suspected that if he turned up the audio input on his helmet, he could pick their voices up with ease.

“You’re radiating green through all that beskar, Mando,” Cara said dryly as she settled on the ground several feet away, crossing her arms as she settled back against the rock behind them.

“I’m not radiating anything,” he retorted, mimicking her and crossing his arms.

“Oh, so you’ve got a different reason for burning a hole into the back of Sari’s ex-boyfriend’s head, then?” Cara pointed out and he turned his visor on her instead, hoping the expressionless helmet would convey his disapproval for him. To his dismay, she only smirked and shook her head. “You know, after all this time, I thought for sure that one of you would’ve made a move on the other.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Din lied.

“Sure you don’t.” Cara stretched her legs out, tilting her head back against the rocky wall and shutting her eyes.

After a quick glance around to make sure Karga and the remaining Nikto mercenaries were asleep and Kuiil was busy tending to the single remaining blurrg on the other side of the campfire, Din turned the audio input on his helmet up just in time as Kal took a deep breath, turning to Sari.

“So, uh, I know things ended not-so-great between us.”

“Yeah, you shot at me,” Sari agreed, smiling wryly as she turned sideways to face him as well.

“To be fair, so did you,” he reminded her and she ducked her head, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. Even though the flickering firelight illuminating her face was faint, Din could see the flush spreading over her cheeks.

“Touché.”

“Hey.” Kal pressed their shoulders together briefly. “I know you were just looking out for the kid. I wasn’t all that surprised, you’ve always been soft for children.”

He glanced over his shoulder and Din held his breath, hoping he was still enough that Kal wouldn’t notice that he was awake, but Kal’s eyes slid over to Karga instead, confirming that he was indeed asleep before turning back to Sari.

“Look, I don’t want the Imps getting a hold of Grogu any more than you do. And I have a feeling that after tonight, Karga won’t, either.”

“You’re asking a lot of me to trust you two after what happened last time,” Sari pointed out, but Din could already see the furrow in her eyebrows forming as she contemplated the idea.

“I’m not asking anything of you,” Kal insisted. “But we’ve known each other five years now. Have I ever let you down before?”

“You haven’t,” Sari admitted with a brief grimace. “At least not until all of this started.”

“I still want us to be friends, Sari. Whatever happens tomorrow, I’ve got your back,” he offered.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll keep it in mind,” she agreed after a moment.

“That’s all I ask.” Kal elbowed her gently and she shoved him back, both of them chuckling between themselves at what was clearly a familiar song and dance.

Din stamped down the reactive twinge of envy as he shut his eyes to drown the sight out. They had five years of both platonic and romantic history, and meanwhile, all he had had with Sari were barely two months; not only was it selfish, but downright ridiculous to think she would look twice at him when she had someone she knew far better to go back to. She barely knew enough about Din to form a list of more than ten things about him - she didn’t even know his _name_ \- and that was his own fault for keeping so much to himself.

“So what kind of stuff can Grogu do?” Kal asked, drawing Din back out of his thoughts as he forced his eyes open again.

Sari hesitated. “Well, as far as I know, he can talk to people through telepathy. He mostly just does it with me, but he’s getting really good at it. He can move things with his mind, too. He stopped a mudhorn in its tracks just because it was about to attack Mando. And you saw his healing ability first-hand. He’s healed both of us from pretty bad injuries without thinking twice about it.”

“Kid’s taken a real liking to you two, huh?” Kal guessed.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sari drew her knees up, hugging them to her chest and nestling her chin on top of her folded arms. “We work well together, all three of us, and we watch each other’s backs. It’s nice.” Even just barely within reach of the firelight as she was, Din could see the faint smile spreading across her face.

“Huh.” Kal stared at her, clearly contemplating something. “Okay. And how long have you been in love with the Mandalorian?”

Sari's legs slipped back down from where she’d been hugging them as she sputtered briefly, startled, and then glanced directly at Din, who did his best to keep his breathing slow and even to pretend he was asleep. Convinced that he hadn’t overheard them, she relaxed again and turned back to Kal.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said evenly, but Din recognized the look on her face; it was the same blank expression she had worn in front of Mayfeld and Xi’an on the Razor Crest as she told them that Din had never removed his helmet around her. She was lying through her teeth, and the realization sent a jolt of relief through him.

“Sari. Come on.” Kal rolled his eyes. “I know you. And I’ve never seen that smile on your face before while talking about _anybody_. Sure as hell not me, anyway.”

Sari flushed bright red, eyes widening. “That’s not-”

“Hey, no, I’m not accusing you of anything.” Kal reached out, pressing his hand over hers, and she laced their fingers together, the gesture so familiar to Din that he could almost feel the ghost of Sari’s slender fingers curling around his own hand. “What we had going was good,” Kal added, “But I don’t think either of us were ever serious about making it work. Do you?”

Din could see Sari’s throat working as she tried to come up with a tactful response. “No,” she conceded quietly at last. “I think the only thing that hurt about losing you was just not knowing if we’d ever talk again.”

“I know what you mean,” Kal said, dropping his gaze to their intertwined hands. “I figured I’d try and make up for what I did by taking off after as many hunters I could, leading them off the Razor Crest’s trail-”

“ _That’s_ why you took all those bounty pucks?” Sari demanded, surprised, and Kal shrugged helplessly.

“Needed an excuse to be out there, and it was the least I could do.” She stared at him, hazel eyes wide and stunned, and he turned pink, embarrassed. “Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that. You really thought I didn’t care?”

“I don’t know what I thought,” she admitted, clearly flustered by the revelation. “I just - all I can think about lately is keeping them both safe. Nothing else matters to me.” She glanced back at Din and he instinctively remained still, hoping she would still think he was asleep.

“Maker, you’ve got it bad,” Kal teased and to Din’s relief, Sari’s attention was diverted from him again as she released Kal’s hand and shoved his shoulder roughly in retaliation.

“Stop it,” she scolded him. “I don’t _have_ anything. We’re not like that. He doesn’t-” She broke off, swallowing harshly. “We’re only still traveling together because I’m good with Grogu.”

Was _that_ what Sari thought of him - that he only wanted her around because of Grogu? Din wanted to give up the pretense of sleep and cross the distance between them to tell her otherwise, not caring if Kal was present to hear him say it, but his throat had closed up and his limbs wouldn’t respond.

“I don’t know if that’s-” Kal began, his eyebrows furrowing, but Sari was already sliding off the rock she was perched on.

“I should check on Grogu and get some sleep,” she said and Din could see the faint glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes as she turned away from Kal. “Good talk. See you in the morning.”

“Sari-” Kal tried again, but she had already begun walking away, so he let out a quiet exhale and turned reluctantly back to his sniper rifle to return to his watch.

Din watched as Sari made her way to the metal hover-pod first, brushing one finger soothingly over one of Grogu’s ears as it twitched towards her unconsciously. She smiled down at the child briefly before leaving him to his sleep, hesitating before making her way to Din’s side and settling on the ground beside him as she absently swiped the back of her sleeve over her eyes.

Belatedly, he realized he had been holding his breath for several seconds and used it as an opportunity to pretend he had stirred from his sleep, taking a deep breath that his oxygen-starved lungs appreciated.

“Hey,” he greeted her and she looked up, startled by the sound of his voice, before managing a tiny smile up at him.

How had he never noticed how different Sari’s smile was when it was aimed at him? It certainly wasn’t the one she had given Kal only minutes earlier, easy and wide, or even the one she had just given Grogu, warm and fond, but rather something soft and tender that Din had never seen granted to anyone but himself.

His heart leapt into his throat as she shuffled in a little closer so that he could see how the firelight reflected off the gold flecks in her eyes, making them shine all the brighter.

“Hi.” She pressed her head against his shoulder as he automatically slid his arm around her shoulders in return.

“You okay?” he asked, unsure how to erase the unfamiliar tremble in her voice.

“Yeah,” she lied, turning her face into his pauldron so that he couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. Resolved things with my not-crazy ex. Go back to sleep.”

He almost confessed that he had never been asleep, that he had heard everything and that she was so incredibly wrong about why he wanted her to stay with him, but the words remained trapped in his throat, unwilling to budge.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Sari mumbled into his shoulder. “Sleep, Mando.”

Din swallowed to try and alleviate some of the tightness in his throat before leaning down to carefully press his helmet-covered forehead against hers in the only kiss he knew how to give - the  mirshmure’cya  he had seen exchanged between so many Mandalorian couples he had grown up around, when both parties were fully-armored and couldn’t remove their helmets in public simply for the sake of showing affection.

Sari leaned up instinctively into the brush of beskar against her forehead, her lips curving back up into the smile that Din now knew was his and his alone. He knew she didn’t know what a mirshmure’cya was and probably didn’t even realize that he had done it before just as intentionally only days earlier, but it didn’t matter when he could see that smile on her face and knew that he was the reason for it.

“Sleep,” she repeated quietly and to his relief, the tremble in her voice was gone. “Grogu’s safe and I’m keeping an eye on him until it’s Cara’s turn to keep watch. Kal and I may have patched things up, but I don’t trust any of them as far as I can throw them yet.”

“I can watch the kid,” he suggested. “You need the rest, too.”

“Sure, but you sleep way less than I do,” she retorted and he had no rebuttal for that; she knew his sleeping habits far too well. She knew _him_ far too well, and the thought of anyone knowing so much about him should have sent him running straight back to the Razor Crest and taking off - but it was Sari, and he knew her just as well.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Sari’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but her smile didn’t waver and she didn’t bother asking him to translate. That was one more thing Din loved about her - she always seemed happy to go along with just listening to him speak in Mando’a, whether or not she understood what he was trying to say.

“I have no idea what you just said, but it sounds pretty for an insult,” she offered.

“Why do you always assume I’m insulting you?” Din demanded, only half-joking.

Sari shrugged, but didn’t respond beyond that as she nestled her head back against his shoulder, one arm sliding around his back to return the loose embrace he held her in.

He stamped down the responsive shiver as her fingers brushed against the small of his back, one of the few spots on his body that wasn’t protected by beskar. It had surprised him that she had even known about it when he had first felt her touch against his back on Arvala-7, but she likely knew every part of his armor as well as he himself did after so long traveling together.

“Go to sleep,” she insisted, her hazel eyes falling on Grogu’s pod a few feet from them and remaining there.

Reluctantly, Din finally conceded, and it was far too easy to allow his guard to slip as he dozed off with Sari curled into his side, her solid warmth under his arm familiar and soothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translation(s):
> 
> Mirshmure'cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally "brain-kiss"  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you; literally "I hold you in my heart eternally"
> 
> Okay, y'all can have a little yearning as a treat before the action kicks off. I even tossed in a pseudo-love confession as a bonus treat (although I maintain that it doesn't count if Sari doesn't know what Din's saying), and Din finally admits (at least in his own inner monologue) that he did the Keldabe kiss back in Chapter 12 on purpose lol.
> 
> I'm really excited to get into the season finale of Season 1! As I mentioned in the last chapter's notes, it's one of my favorite episodes of the entire show, so I'm very excited to write it out.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plan always seems solid right up until it goes awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh. Elephant in the room being addressed here: I'm not going to think of Gina Carano and Cara Dune as one and the same person and will continue to write Cara Dune the way I have so far in this fic, but that does not by any means indicate that I support for the things Gina said. I'm glad Lucasfilm has fired her and won't give her a platform to continue spouting hate.
> 
> Anyway, just thought I'd push this chapter out a little earlier than planned mainly to address that (and also because I'm impatient to get to the next chapter lol). Enjoy!

“Think they’re having second thoughts?” the Mandalorian asked Sari quietly as they walked along the lava fields, his visor fixed ahead on Karga and Kal discussing something quietly with the Nikto mercenaries.

“Hard to say,” Sari admitted, thinking back to her talk with Kal the previous night. “Kal might be on our side, from what he’s hinted at to me, but that could’ve been a trick, too.”

“Could use your eyes,” the Mandalorian added to Cara on his other side, who nodded briefly as her hand drifted down to rest on the handle of her blaster.

“I’m watching.”

“Eh?” Grogu’s ears twitched curiously as he peered out of the pod.

Sari absently pressed her finger into his outstretched hands, letting him shove her knuckle into his mouth; they had left the stuffed mudhorn toy and the shift knob back at the Razor Crest for fear of losing either of them, and Grogu had begun to get antsy without the usual items to occupy his attention.

“Kid doing alright?” Cara glanced towards the pod and Sari couldn’t miss the fond smile the ex-shock trooper aimed at Grogu; he seemed to win over all kinds of hearts easily, no matter how tough they were.

“Bluh,” he told her solemnly, the sound muffled around Sari’s knuckle.

“He’s fine,” Sari translated wryly. “He just likes chewing on my fingers. Don’t actually bite, that hurts,” she added a little more sternly to Grogu when his sharp, tiny teeth sank just a little too deeply into her skin. He burbled an apology as he released her finger again and she ruffled his wispy hair in a silent gesture of forgiveness.

“Well, here we are,” Karga called over his shoulder and Sari returned her attention in front of them just in time to see the low, flat buildings of the town appear at the edge of the horizon. “I guess this is it,” Karga added, but Sari didn’t miss how it seemed aimed at Kal rather than the rest of them.

The Mandalorian and Cara reached for their blasters simultaneously as Sari quickly pressed the button on the pod to shut it, but then Karga and Kal spun around, shooting the Nikto mercenaries instead. As they collapsed, the Mandalorian and Cara lifted their blasters to aim at Karga and Kal, both of whom holstered their own guns and raised their hands in surrender.

“Look, the plan was to kill you and take the kid,” Karga admitted.

“Color me shocked,” Sari deadpanned and Kal shrugged helplessly back at her.

“I did try to warn you.”

“Soren was never on board in the first place, but after last night, I couldn’t go through with it, either,” Karga reassured her before turning back to the Mandalorian. “Go on, you can gun us down here and now, and it wouldn’t violate the Code. But if you do, this child will never be safe.”

“We can take our chances,” Cara said stiffly.

“The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you?” Karga pressed and the Mandalorian remained silent.

“This is ridiculous,” Cara insisted.

“Perhaps you should let him speak,” Kuiil said quietly from several feet away where he was petting the single remaining blurrg’s side to soothe it after the explosion of blaster fire.

“We all need the client to be eliminated,” Karga offered, “Let’s take the child to him and then you-”

“No,” the Mandalorian interrupted him. “The kid doesn’t go anywhere near the Imps.”

“Let’s just kill them and get out of here,” Cara suggested.

“No, Karga’s right,” Sari said with a brief grimace at the thought. “To be fair, so are you,” she added to the Mandalorian as his helmet twisted sharply in her direction, “But like you said before, as long as the client’s around, they’ll keep sending hunters after us. We have to make a stand.”

“It’s a trap,” Cara protested.

“Then bring me,” the Mandalorian told Karga. “Tell them you captured me. We’ll bring the pod, pretend the kid’s still inside, and use it to get close enough to the client to take him out.”

“This is insane,” Cara said with a shake of her head.

“It is, but it’s the only plan that might work,” the Mandalorian pointed out.

“Well, then, I’m coming with you,” Cara retorted.

“Not a chance,” Karga scoffed, “That’ll make them more suspicious.”

“You can tell them she caught me,” the Mandalorian suggested.

“Then she can bring the child,” Karga said.

“That’s not happening,” the Mandalorian dismissed. “He goes back in the ship.”

“How does any of this work without Grogu in the pod?” Kal asked warily.

“I have a plan,” the Mandalorian reassured him before he turned to Kuiil. “Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the kid and seal yourself in. When you’re inside, engage ground security protocols, and nothing on this planet will breach those doors.”

“I will keep the child safe,” the Ugnaught agreed, accepting the spare commlink the Mandalorian passed to him and tucking it into his collar. “Don’t forget to keep your stripes covered,” he added to Cara, seemingly just to get one last dig in at her, and she wrinkled her nose back at him.

“And what about me, Mando?” Sari demanded, noticing a distinct lack of herself in the plan so far. “Because if you’re going to tell me to go back with them and sit this out-”

“I’m not,” he told her and the shock of that revelation was enough to make the rest of her argument die in her throat. “We’ll tell them you took the Crest and got away before they arrested me. But I want you and Soren up on the roof opposite the cantina as backup if things go sour.”

“I know the building you’re talking about,” Kal answered, turning the Mandalorian’s attention onto him. “The rooftop’s low enough that we might be spotted the moment we take aim, but we can take out the client’s fire team from up there if we have to.”

“You both remember I’m a terrible sharpshooter, right?” Sari pointed out and Kal rolled his eyes.

“Sari, I’m the one who taught you to shoot long-distance. You’re better than you think you are. You won’t miss, even with a pistol.” She flushed slightly at the praise.

“And even if you do, I’m covered in beskar, if that makes you feel better,” the Mandalorian added dryly, clearly teasing her despite the severity of the situation, and she scowled back at him, not bothering to dignify it with a response as he reached for the handcuffs on his belt and held them out to Karga. “Let’s go.”

Sari took the opportunity to open the pod beside her again, scooping Grogu out as he clutched her shirt with trembling fingers.

“Mweh?” he asked anxiously, clearly sensing her nerves.

“You have to go back to the ship now, bud, but we’ll see you again soon,” she murmured reassuringly. He cooed back up at her, patting her cheek in a silent goodbye, and she pressed a kiss between his large eyes before carefully settling him in Kuiil’s waiting arms. “Let us know when you’re back in the ship,” she added to the Ugnaught. “Stay safe.”

“I will,” Kuiil promised.

Grogu peered out from the blue blanket he was swaddled in, his eyes darting between Sari and the Mandalorian worriedly as Kuiil carried him to the blurrg and climbed onto its back. A tiny hand slipped out, waving at Sari, and she cracked a smile before folding her middle two fingers down and returning the wave so that he could see her signing _I love you_ back.

When she turned back to the rest of the group, albeit reluctantly, the Mandalorian’s gaze was fixed on her, his helmet giving away nothing of the expression he wore underneath.

“You’re going to want to take the scenic route to avoid the Imps posted around town,” he told her. “There’s a tunnel outside the eastern gate that leads down into the sewers. Take it all the way to the end and it’ll drop you in an alley a few yards away from the cantina.”

“How do you know where the sewer tunnels lead?” Kal asked curiously and the Mandalorian hesitated.

“It’s where my covert’s located,” he admitted after a long moment. “My people use those tunnels to get in and out of town without being seen.”

“Then I guess this is where we part ways.” Kal held out a hand and the Mandalorian shook it briefly, albeit awkwardly since his hands were bound in front of him, before turning to Sari. She suspected he would have taken her hand if they had been alone and his hands had been free.

“Be safe,” he offered instead.

“You, too.” She gave him a small smile. “See you on the other side.”

* * *

“I don’t know how Mando’s people can stand living down here,” Kal complained as he and Sari picked past womp-rats and trash littering the dark sewer tunnel that lay below the town. “It stinks to high heaven.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Sari said with a grimace as she turned her gaze away from a womp-rat gnawing on an old bone that looked too similar to a human femur for her liking.

She didn’t know how long the Mandalorian’s covert had been surviving in the sewers, but the thought of him and the rest of his people being forced to live underground for their own safety didn’t sit right with her for reasons she couldn’t quite put into words.

“Why are they even spread out across the galaxy and hiding in the shadows?” Kal asked, drawing her back out of her thoughts. “I thought Mandalore was where they were all from, shouldn’t they be settled there?”

“Not all Mandalorians are from Mandalore,” she corrected, shaking her head. “Some are adopted into the culture.”

“Like yours?” Kal guessed and Sari elbowed him, earning a wince.

“He’s not mine,” she reminded him. “And I don’t know how much he wants me to say, but yes, like him.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Besides, a former Imp I met mentioned that the Empire did something to Mandalore. I don’t know what, though. Maybe whatever they did made the planet uninhabitable.”

“‘Former Imp,’” Kal echoed with a skeptical snort. “Imps don’t change, Sari, you know that. They’re always gonna be sympathizers, at the very least.”

Sari swallowed, her fingers moving to trace the Imperial operating number inked into the skin above her ear as she debated whether to tell Kal what she had learned about it, but before she could make a decision, she noticed a spot of light at the end of the dark tunnel.

“Guess that’s the exit,” she said, relieved that the discussion would be tabled for another time when tensions were far lower.

“Here.” Kal pressed his sniper rifle into Sari’s hands before climbing up the ladder, peering out the grate before pushing his way out and silently waving for her to follow.

She passed up the rifle before climbing up the ladder, joining him and moving the grate cover back into place as he glanced around the corner and took in the sight of Stormtroopers patrolling the main street. He gestured upwards at a nearby fire escape to indicate their path forward.

Sari grimaced at the thought of having to parkour their way across the rooftops, but it was too late for her to think about it as Kal hauled himself up and held his hand out to her. Grudgingly, she grasped his hand, allowing him to pull her onto the metal fire escape and making her way to the rooftop behind him.

“Cantina’s across the street and three buildings from here,” he told her quietly, nodding to the building in question. “We’ll need to hop two roofs to set up shop.”

“Got it.” She braced herself before taking a running start and leaping across to the rooftop, breaking her fall with her shoulder and rolling back to her feet.

Kal did the same after tossing his rifle across to her and they repeated the maneuver, settling on the roof opposite the cantina as Sari rubbed her bruised shoulder ruefully.

“I swear to the Maker, parkour’s just the _worst_ ,” she complained as she sprawled out onto her stomach beside Kal so that they remained out of view while he set up his sniper rifle.

“Didn’t you first learn to use your hooked blades specifically so you could look cool while doing parkour?” he reminded her, grinning.

“Shut up, we all think we want to be cool when we’re young,” she grumbled. “A gun’s just more practical.”

“Prioritizing function over fashion? Now I _know_ we’re getting old,” he teased, elbowing her shoulder gently before sprawling out beside her, peering through the scope as his easy smile vanished. “Alright, I see them going in now.”

Sari glanced over the edge of the roof just in time to see the glint of beskar in the late morning sunlight as the Mandalorian was pushed through the doorway with his hands cuffed in front of him, Cara at his back and Karga at his side.

“We’re in,” the commlink attached to Sari’s collar crackled with Karga’s voice, pitched low to keep their company from noticing.

“And we’re in position,” Sari answered in a whisper. “Kal’s got visual. Keep your audio on.”

“Look what I brought you, as promised,” Karga said a little more loudly and she knew he was talking to the client as she settled back on the rooftop and clicked her own commlink’s mute button, glancing briefly at Kal to make sure he still had eyes on them and receiving a nod in return.

“What exquisite craftsmanship,” she heard the client say, his accent still as unplaceable as it had been when she had first received Grogu’s tracking fob from him months earlier. Had it really been so long since her life had turned upside-down? “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans.”

“Ugh, poor Mando,” Kal muttered as he continued to watch through his scope, his nose wrinkling in sympathy. “The guy’s feeling up his armor like a creep.”

Sari bit back a shudder of her own at the thought; it reminded her too much of seeing Xi’an run the edge of her knife along the Mandalorian’s chest plate, far too intimate and personal even if the context was different.

“Where is the girl?” the client asked and the Mandalorian remained silent.

“She got away,” Cara supplied stiffly. “Took his ship and bailed, left him and the kid behind.”

Sari winced at the implication that she would leave anyone behind and Kal’s elbow dug into her shoulder, forcing her to look up at him.

“Everyone knows you wouldn’t,” he reassured her quietly and she managed a tiny smile back.

“No matter,” the client dismissed. “She cannot run for long. We will have her soon enough as well. Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?”

The offer had been addressed to Karga, who agreed easily, “I would be obliged.”

“Then please sit.” Footsteps echoed through the commlink, followed by the creaking of leather as Sari assumed Karga had taken a seat in one of the booths opposite the client. The quiet clang of beskar meeting the metal leg of the table gave away that the Mandalorian had been shoved into the booth beside Karga.

“More Stormtroopers going in,” Kal pointed out with a frown and Sari peered over the edge of the rooftop to see several Stormtroopers filing into the cantina.

“I thought Karga said there were only going to be four at the meeting,” she reminded Kal.

“To be fair, we _were_ only told there would be four,” he admitted.

“It is a shame that your people suffered so,” the client said over the commlink, clearly addressing the Mandalorian again. “Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric - safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.”

Sari glanced across at Kal, catching his eye before pointedly rolling hers as he grinned and pulled a face in return; Imperial speeches always ended up leading to the same song and dance that only they could bring order to the galaxy.

“I would like to see the baby,” the client added and only the seriousness of his voice kept Sari from snorting with laughter at how odd the sentence sounded coming from an Imp’s mouth.

“Uh, it is asleep,” Karga said, flustered.

“We will all be quiet,” the client reassured him and Sari shook her head at herself for finding the situation so incredibly absurd. “Open the pram.”

A shrill beep suddenly cut through the commlink and footsteps approached the booth they were sitting at as a Stormtrooper’s modulated whisper echoed over the communication channel.

“Do not think me rude,” the client said, “But I must take this call.”

As the leather of the seat creaked with the client’s movement, Sari heard the Mandalorian’s voice as he leaned over to Karga.

“Give me the blaster and the commlink.”

A quiet shuffling indicated that the exchange had taken place.

“Mesh’la?” the Mandalorian asked into the commlink quietly.

Sari fumbled to unmute herself, startled. “I’m here, Mando,” she breathed, ignoring Kal’s rising eyebrows beside her at the nickname.

“There are too many of them,” the Mandalorian whispered back. “Just hold your positions, don’t fire. Do you copy, Soren?”

“I copy,” Kal said, leaning over so that the Mandalorian could hear him. “But you’ve got more Stormtroopers incoming.”

“Just four, huh?” Sari could hear Cara saying to Karga irritably.

“Well, there are more, what can I tell you?” Karga muttered back as Sari pushed herself up onto her elbows to peek down again, frowning at the sight of the Stormtrooper firing squad setting up blaster rifles outside before the realization of what was about to happen hit her.

“Get down!” she warned just before they opened fire on the cantina.

The sounds of scuffling and blaster fire echoed both down below and at Sari’s collar as she peered worriedly over the edge of the roof. Finally, the Stormtroopers lowered their smoking rifles, remaining where they were as more of their troops began to filter into the street.

“Mando?” she asked anxiously into the commlink.

“We’re safe,” he reassured her and she let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “The client’s dead. So is his fire team.”

“Why would they shoot their own guy?” Kal said incredulously under his breath.

“Someone just called the client,” Cara called, as if from the other side of the room. “I think he ordered the hit.”

“Well, kriff, Imps are turning on each other,” Kal said, eyebrows still high on his forehead as he shook his head in disbelief. “Who’d’ve guessed?”

“Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet?” the Mandalorian demanded.

When no reply came, Sari felt her heart constrict with fear, instinctively trying to reach out to Grogu to feel for his presence. It had become easier over the past several days to find him wherever he was in the Razor Crest - she could usually sense the solid blob of innocence and joy like a warm body on a thermal scanner - but she had never tested their connection over several miles. As she expected, she couldn’t sense Grogu at all.

“Kuiil?” the Mandalorian tried again. “Do you copy?”

“Yes,” Kuiil panted into the commlink a moment later, the labored grunts of the blurrg he was riding audible in the background.

“Are you back to the ship yet?” the Mandalorian repeated.

“Not yet,” Kuiil said tersely and Sari could hear the faint gurgle of Grogu’s voice from where he was probably nestled against Kuiil’s shoulder.

“Then get back to the ship and bail,” the Mandalorian ordered. “Get the kid out of here, we’re pinned down.”

“How many are you seeing down below?” Sari asked Kal quietly.

“Fifty,” he answered, grimacing. “Maybe more.”

“ _Four_ Stormtroopers?” Cara deadpanned again.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?!” Karga snapped back at her.

“It’s fine, Greef, I’m sure you probably meant ‘four metric fuck-tons of Stormtroopers,’” Sari deadpanned, pushing herself up to take a look at the troops herself, but then Kal tugged her back down as a TIE fighter zoomed overhead.

“Did I just hear a _TIE fighter_?” Cara demanded incredulously.

“Yep, you did,” Sari confirmed, peeking over the edge of the rooftop as the TIE fighter landed outside the cantina and the ramp lowered, allowing a tall man with a flowing black cape to stride out.

“You have something I want,” he addressed the cantina, enunciating each word crisply.

“Who’s this guy?” Cara muttered, just barely loud enough for the commlink to pick up.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of. But you do not,” the man continued as Sari squinted down at him.

Even as far away as she was, she could see that he had salt-and-pepper hair and dark skin, his cold eyes narrowed as he examined the destroyed window of the cantina. He wore dark clothes with a badge pinned to his lapel underneath the flowing cape; he was unmistakably a very highly-ranked Imperial officer.

“Kuiil, are you back on the ship yet?” the Mandalorian hissed into the commlink. “They’re onto us. Kuiil, come in!”

There was no responding crackle from the commlink as Sari clutched her collar tightly, as if it would encourage Kuiil to respond.

“In a few moments, it will be mine,” the Imperial officer added. “It means more to me than you will ever know.”

“Kuiil!” the Mandalorian tried again, a hint of desperation entering his voice. “Do you copy? Are you there?”

“What’s happening?” Sari asked into the commlink, but then a sudden wave of terror that wasn’t her own and the image of a Stormtrooper’s helmet slammed into her, knocking the wind out of her as she clutched the concrete lip of the roof tightly. “Grogu,” she breathed, unable to help the horror that washed over her as she pieced together what had likely just happened.

“What?” the Mandalorian said, startled and distracted by her voice.

“Grogu just reached out to me,” she clarified, swallowing the bile rising in her throat and trying to shake herself out of her shock. “I think they have him. They probably killed Kuiil.”

“Osik,” the Mandalorian muttered under his breath before instructing, “You and Soren need to get out of there. Take the sewer tunnel back out, track the kid down. We’ll find a way out from here.”

“No way, they’ll be all over us the moment we get down to the street. And how do _you_ plan on getting out?” Kal demanded, leaning in to be heard over the commlink. “You said it yourself, Mando, you’re pinned down.”

“There might be a sewer entrance in here,” the Mandalorian answered and Sari heard him shift slightly as he turned to examine the room they were in. “I’m checking for access points now. If we can get down to the covert, the other Mandalorians will help us.”

“Sewers are a good plan,” Cara agreed. “What are they doing right now, Sari?”

“Uh, waiting, I think.” Sari risked another glance over the edge of the rooftop. “Wait, no, they’re putting something together,” she corrected herself, squinting at the black gun they were assembling. “Some kind of automatic cannon? I’ve never seen that model before.”

“Dank farrik,” Cara swore as Sari saw her head briefly pop up inside the cantina window before ducking back out of sight. “That’s an E-Web.”

“It’s over,” Karga said grimly.

“What’s an E-Web and why is it over?” Sari asked, bewildered.

“I found the sewer vent,” the Mandalorian interrupted before either Cara or Karga could elaborate and Sari heard footsteps on the other side of the communication channel.

“They’re done assembling it,” she supplied when she managed to get another look at the weapon the Stormtroopers had been building.

“How long until that thing’s cleared?” Karga demanded.

“Blow the grate,” Cara suggested.

“I’m out of charges,” the Mandalorian admitted.

“ _How_?” Sari said incredulously. “You’re a literal walking armory!”

“Just get out of the way!” Cara snapped and Sari flinched instinctively as Cara began to fire her blaster rifle at the sewer vent, the laser blasts pinging off the metal of the grate uselessly and echoing through the commlink.

“Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation,” the strange Imperial officer said calmly at last, having been observing the E-Web’s assembly in silence the entire time. “I would prefer to avoid any further violence, and so I encourage a moment of consideration. Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster.”

Sari grimaced at how heavy-duty the weapon sounded; at least her guess hadn’t been too far off from the truth.

“If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican shock trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model,” the Imperial officer added and Cara let out a sharp exhale at the sound of her full name. “Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordnance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears.”

Din Djarin - so that was the name of the man Sari had been traveling with for the past few months. She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat, wishing she could erase the name from her mind just as easily as she had heard it; it felt wrong to know it now, especially when he hadn’t been the one to give it to her.

If the Mandalorian was upset at hearing his real name spoken aloud for the first time in what Sari assumed was a long time, he didn’t show it; there was no reaction from the other end of the commlink attached to her collar and she couldn’t see him through the broken window of the cantina.

“I advise disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end,” the Imperial officer said with a note of finality in his voice.

“What do you propose?” Karga asked warily after a moment.

“Reasonable negotiation.” The Imperial officer shrugged, as if it was a casual Sunday in the park.

“What assurance do you offer?” Karga insisted, ever the shrewd businessman.

“If you’re asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand.” The Imperial officer paused briefly, taking in the tense silence emanating from the cantina at the blatant threat. “The assurance I give is this: I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.”

“Oh, nightfall, that’s generous,” Cara muttered.

“I also recommend that Guild sharpshooter Kal Soren remove the sniper rifle currently trained on my head. You will be dead before you can pull that trigger, I can promise you that,” the Imperial officer added, turning to face the rooftop opposite the cantina.

Kal sucked in a breath beside Sari, clearly startled upon having been noticed, but slowly pulled the rifle down from its spot on the edge of the roof.

“You’re welcome to remain up there for a bird’s-eye view, if you so choose,” the Imperial officer offered, “But I would like to request Imperial asset SD-523, alias ‘Sarika Amin,’ who is currently stationed beside you, to come down to the street level and surrender herself back to our custody. I know her father, renowned Imperial scientist Dr. Tarek Amin, will be pleased by her compliance.”

“Imperial asset?” Kal hissed as Sari clutched the edge of the roof tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. “I didn’t even know your last name until now, and you’re an Imp on top of that?”

“ _I_ didn’t know my last name until now, so let’s leave the infighting for later,” she retorted under her breath and he stared at her, his blue eyes wide and stunned.

“If you do _not_ comply, SD-523, I will not bother giving your friends the time to think over their decision,” the Imperial officer warned, turning their attention back to him. “Turn yourself over within the next thirty seconds or I will have my men unleash the E-Web immediately.”

“Cyar’ika, _don’t_ ,” the Mandalorian said sharply into the commlink, but Sari was already pushing herself to her feet.

“Fine, I surrender,” she called back down to the Imperial officer. “I’ll be right down.”

“Thank you,” he told her politely.

“You’re welcome,” she deadpanned, wondering if the niceties would get her anywhere as she turned to head for the fire escape leading down from the rooftop. “Hey, Mando, you never did teach me how to swear in your language,” she added quietly into the commlink.

“Is now the best time to ask me for a lesson in Mando’a?” the Mandalorian asked incredulously.

“Hey, if they’re gonna make me their lab rat again, I might as well get dragged away kicking and screaming every swearword I know at them,” she pointed out dryly, “And I need a bigger repertoire.”

“They’re not taking you,” he said darkly.

“I don’t think we’ve got any options there.” Sari tossed the commlink across the roof to Kal, who fumbled to catch it, before she swung herself onto the fire escape and slid down the ladder. She landed on the street and took a deep breath before making her way out of the alleyway, lifting her hands so that the Imperial officer could see that she was unarmed. “So my Imperial scientist dad sent you to pick me up?” she asked wryly.

It would be just the same as the plan she had used on Toro Calican; all she had to do was keep the other person talking, distract him from giving the order to set off the E-Web, and buy time for everyone in the cantina and Kal to escape.

“And to give you this, in return for your cooperation.” The Imperial officer produced a thin silver data-stick, holding it up for her to see. “It’s the one and only copy of your file in its entirety. And I would know, I was a former ISB officer.” He smiled humorlessly. “Moff Gideon, at your service.”

“Technically, I’m at yours.” Sari swallowed, taking a step forward to reach for the data-stick, but he pulled it out of her reach.

“You will be allowed to read it once you are safely ensconced back in your father’s laboratory,” he told her, “And until then, it remains with me.” She watched as the data-stick disappeared into the lapel of his coat.

“This laboratory - would it happen to be in the Imperial base here on Nevarro?” she asked and Moff Gideon’s face twitched slightly before settling back into an impassive mask.

“Perhaps,” he allowed.

“The same one my mother snuck me out of when I was a child?” Sari guessed and he smiled coldly.

“She thought your father’s experiments on you were too harsh and sent you away in the middle of the night. She paid dearly for that mistake.”

Sari’s throat felt tight and she had to clench her fists at her sides to keep herself from instinctively signing her next question.

“Experiments?” she croaked at last and Moff Gideon tapped the secret pocket of his coat where the data-stick was tucked safely away.

“There will be time for that.” He turned to a nearby Stormtrooper. “Take her to the TIE fighter.”

The Stormtrooper brought out a pair of handcuffs, stepping towards Sari, and she shut her eyes in grim defeat as she held her hands out in preparation to be arrested; at least if she cooperated, everyone else would have until nightfall to escape.

“No!” the Mandalorian protested from inside the cantina, his voice hoarse and desperate even through the modulator in his helmet, but then blaster fire erupted in the distance and the Stormtroopers surrounding them began to turn around and promptly crumple as laser blasts struck them squarely in their chests.

Sari dared to crack her eyes open and glanced down the street in time to recognize IG-11 racing towards her on a speeder bike, a distinctly-familiar green child strapped to its torso in the carrier Sari had bought on Tatooine and giggling so madly that she was frankly a little frightened by his bloodlust.

“Is that...?” the Mandalorian said slowly, seemingly stunned.

“Grogu?!” Sari finished for him incredulously.

IG-11 leapt off the speeder bike as it approached the cantina and the bike spun into a crowd of Stormtroopers, exploding in a ball of flames. The droid drew its blasters again to continue taking out the enemies around them, shielding Grogu from the returning laser fire by spinning its torso around to angle him away from the Stormtroopers.

Sari quickly took the opportunity to grab the blaster pistol from her thigh holster, shooting the Stormtrooper in front of her before wheeling around to aim at Moff Gideon. He was one step ahead of her, though, his own blaster trained on her forehead, and they were trapped in a stand-off, both of their fingers on the trigger of their respective guns.

“Soren, do you have a visual on them?” the Mandalorian demanded. “Can you cover Sari?”

“No clear shot, Mando,” Kal’s voice crackled from the commlink still clutched in the Mandalorian’s hand feet away from Sari on the other side of the cantina wall.

“Both of you, cover me,” the Mandalorian ordered over his shoulder to Cara and Karga.

Sari didn’t dare pull her eyes away from Moff Gideon, whose eyes were narrowed in a laser focus on her even as the Mandalorian stormed out of the cantina, his blaster drawn as he took out Stormtroopers left and right. From inside the cantina, Cara aimed a laser blast from her own rifle that cut between Sari and Moff Gideon. The latter jerked briefly, startled, and Sari pulled the trigger of her blaster, but swore under her breath when it only clicked; the gun had jammed.

She threw the pistol as hard as she could instead and heard the sickening crack of the handle making contact with Moff Gideon’s nose as it broke under the blunt force. He stumbled back, clutching his now-bleeding, crooked nose.

“Why would you _throw_ it?!” Kal demanded incredulously as he swung himself down to the street from the fire escape.

“It’s not like we’re short on weapons around here,” Sari reminded him before rushing at the dazed Moff Gideon, shoving the lapel of his coat aside to grab frantically at the data-stick nestled in his pocket.

He brought his boot up to kick her in the stomach just as her fingers wrapped around the data-stick and she fell back against the hard ground. The impact knocked the wind out of her and forced the thin, silver object to slip out of her fingers and disappear in the dust and dirt of the scuffle around them. Moff Gideon aimed the blaster at Sari’s head, ignoring the blood flowing freely from his nose, and she pushed herself up hurriedly onto her elbows so that she could roll out of the way, but then a barrage of blaster fire swept across the Stormtrooper ranks, completely destroying them.

When Sari looked up, she saw the Mandalorian holding the E-Web cannon, having torn it off its pedestal as he swung it around to take out the Stormtroopers surrounding them. Moff Gideon hurriedly took aim at the Mandalorian - right at the small of his back, where Sari knew there was no beskar to shield him - and she scrambled to her feet to shove the Imperial officer hard enough that his laser blast hit the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet instead.

The force of the blast still pushed the Mandalorian off-balance, but the steel of his helmet had protected him, and Sari watched as he spun around to aim the E-Web at Moff Gideon. Moff Gideon dropped his gun suddenly, firing a blast at the E-Web’s power unit that lay near the Mandalorian’s feet, and it erupted into an explosion that sent him flying backwards as the E-Web clattered to the ground several feet away.

“ _Din_!” The scream tore its way out of Sari’s throat before she could stop it as the Mandalorian slammed into the ground with a painful-sounding thud and lay deathly still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translation(s):
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful  
> Osik: shit  
> Cyar'ika: darling; sweetheart
> 
> Ayy, you know I had to end it on a cliffhanger for y'all (also this chapter was starting to get too long for my taste and I couldn't find a nicer place to break this chapter and the next one up lol).
> 
> I might take a few days to a week between updates after the next one just so that I have time to fill up my backlog again (I only have two more chapters finished at the moment in my drafts), but after that, I'll get back to posting every 2 or 3 days to the best of my ability.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang's escape into the sewers is fraught with fear and angst.

“ _Din_!”

Din couldn’t remember the last time he had heard anyone say his name before Moff Gideon only minutes earlier - it had at least been years, and if he wasn’t counting other Mandalorians, perhaps closer to a lifetime - but nothing compared to the way he heard Sari screaming it over the sound of his ears ringing from the force of the explosion, tinged with a terror that he had never wanted to hear in her voice as his vision briefly went dark.

When he was aware of himself again, every single nerve of his body felt as if it was on fire, the agony intense enough that he could barely breathe as he lay on the ground. He couldn’t see anything but empty blackness above him and for a moment, he wondered if his helmet’s visor had gone dark.

“Wake up, please wake up,” he could hear Sari pleading breathlessly, sounding as if she was suddenly much closer.

He reached up blindly and found her hand somewhere near his other shoulder, squeezing it as tightly as he could as he forced himself to keep blinking until the world swam back into view. The visor hadn’t failed, then; he had just lost consciousness.

Sari was on her knees as she leaned over him, breathing hard like she had just run to his side. She looked pale and exhausted, dark circles prominent under her eyes from when she hadn’t slept the night before. Her face was covered with dust and dirt from the scuffle she had just been in, and her hair had unraveled from its braid, the messy curls cascading loosely over her shoulders like a dark waterfall.

“Mesh’la,” he managed to croak out despite the sandpaper coating his aching throat and the smile reserved only for him spread across her lips, timid and tremulous, as her fingers curled back around his.

“I’m here, Mando,” she promised.

He opened his mouth to ask her why she wasn’t using his name again now that she knew it, but the words died in his throat.

“Here, I got him,” Cara’s voice said from somewhere above him and he tried to crane his neck and find her, but winced as another jolt of pain rendered him immobile; it was probably a concussion, then, and a bad one, if his vision was blurring as badly as it was. Sari released his hand, scrambling to her feet, and Cara grabbed him by the arms, hauling him unceremoniously backwards into the cantina.

He blacked out again.

When he blinked himself back into wakefulness, he was propped against what had once been the bar counter in the cantina, Sari kneeling beside him again with Grogu nestled in her arms. Cara and the droid were working together on dismantling the sewer vent’s grate behind them as Karga and Kal guarded the doorway to the cantina.

“The kid?” Din asked, his tongue feeling heavy and numb in his mouth, and Grogu cooed as Sari cracked a faint smile and held him up for Din to see; she obviously didn’t need him to elaborate the question.

“He’s okay, just a little banged up. Turns out a Stormtrooper punched him.”

She tossed a brief, fierce glare over her shoulder at the Stormtroopers outside and despite everything, Din couldn’t help a smile, hidden beneath his visor; if she had gotten her hands on the E-Web herself, she would likely have marched outside and decimated the entire army in a blaze of righteous fury the moment she had found out a Stormtrooper had laid a hand on their child.

When had Grogu gone from _a_ child to _their_ child, anyway? It seemed like it had been only yesterday and an eternity ago at the same time.

“We’re getting the sewer grate open so you can lead us down to the covert,” Sari added and that tore Din back out of the daze he had sunken into; if he was distracted so easily, then the head injury was worse than he had thought. He could feel blood sliding down the back of his neck in thick rivulets and soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“I’m not gonna make it,” he admitted.

“Of course you are,” she dismissed, setting Grogu down and sliding her hand around Din’s neck to prop his head up.

“Wait, don’t-” he tried to caution her, but she froze; she had already found the back of his head, and when she drew her fingers back, they were slick and stained dark red with his blood.

“I’m gonna have to take a look at your head,” she said carefully, but her voice cracked as she reached out again.

“No.” He caught her wrist as her trembling fingers closed around the edge of his helmet. “You have to leave me.” He had to struggle to get the words out even as Sari began to shake her head in earnest protest. “No, Sari, just - just _listen_ to me for once. Please.” He swallowed, hoping it would ease the dryness of his throat; it didn’t. “You need to get the kid to safety. Here.”

He reached up to his neck with his free hand, yanking off the thin black cord hidden underneath the knot of his cape and pressing the Mythosaur necklace he had owned for as long as he had been a Mandalorian into Sari’s hands.

“No,” she said bleakly, her eyes suddenly far too bright as she attempted to shove the necklace back into his hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to wrap his fingers around the steel pendant.

“When you get to the covert, you show them that. Tell them it’s from Din Djarin.” Sari was shaking her head again, but Din pressed on, “You tell them the foundling was in our protection - yours and mine - and they’ll help you.”

“Tell them yourself,” Sari retorted, tears sliding down her cheeks now and cutting clean tracks through the grime and dust on her face.

Din had only seen her cry once before - when she had found out her mother had given her up for her safety rather than abandoned her, as she had assumed all her life - and now here she was crying over him, something he had never entertained as possible before and had never wanted to.

“I won’t make it,” he insisted.

“Stop fighting me and we can _all_ make it,” she snapped, her bloody fingers twisting around the Mythosaur necklace’s cord even as her free hand found its way back to his helmet.

He reached up hurriedly to stop her before she could pull it off, but it turned out he didn’t need to; she only pressed her hand to it instead, her palm cradling the curved surface as her thumb brushed over where his cheekbone lay underneath. He briefly gave into the instinct to shut his eyes, wishing he could feel her touch against his face instead of having to settle for how the beskar sang in his ears at the delicate brush of her fingertips.

“Don’t ask me to leave you,” she breathed, something painfully vulnerable in her voice.

“I’m not asking you, I’m _telling_ you,” he gritted out, trying to sound far more firm than he could manage with how dizzy he was; if they had been alone, he might have risked asking her to kiss him instead.

When he forced his eyes open again, Sari’s expression had shifted into something more stubborn as she opened her mouth to argue again, but then her head snapped around to the broken window of the cantina, clearly seeing something he couldn’t. Before he had time to brace himself, she threw herself unceremoniously over him.

He managed to force his arm up and around her waist as a jet of fire burst through the window, sweeping across the cantina and over their heads, and the sudden flare of heat was enough to make him haul her closer, briefly worried she’d been burned by the flames’ proximity.

“We have to go,” she said as she pushed herself upright again, her hand sliding back up to press against the side of his helmet. She seemed unharmed, but her eyes were wide and startled, clearly having not expected the attack.

“The grate’s almost open,” Cara called back to them, but Din could see the grim expression on her face as she took in the situation and hoped that she would haul Sari away if Sari continued to try and drag him along.

“Go with them,” he insisted, “I can hold them off long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior’s death.”

Sari was already shaking her head yet again. “I won’t leave you.”

“This is the Way,” he reassured her.

Her jaw clenched as she took a deep breath, probably preparing to tell him what exactly she thought of the Mandalorian Way, but then the Incinerator Stormtrooper who had attacked them stormed into the cantina and Sari instinctively threw herself over Din again to shield him from the jet of flames aimed directly at them. He tried weakly to push her aside and out of the way, but she clung to him too tightly for him to move her, especially injured as he was.

“Grogu, _no_!” she blurted out suddenly and Din followed her horrified gaze to Grogu, who had settled himself directly between the incoming flames and them.

Even as he watched, the child lifted a tiny, three-fingered hand and the fire seemed to stop in its path, wavering in the air. Grogu flicked his wrist and the jet abruptly switched directions, turning on the Incinerator Stormtrooper and sending him sprawling outside the cantina in an explosion of flames.

“Our kid is _amazing_ ,” Sari said, sounding vaguely awed, and Din couldn’t stop a breathless chuckle of agreement from escaping.

Grogu slumped to the floor, drained from the effort, just as Din heard the distant clatter of the sewer vent’s grate falling away.

“It’s open,” Kal shouted, “Let’s go!”

“Go,” Din tried again when Sari turned back to him, her hazel eyes swimming again. “You need to keep Grogu safe. Go,  mesh’la.”

He reached up impulsively as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, thumbing them away as best as he could, and her hand came up to cover his own over her cheek as she turned into his touch, pressing her lips delicately to his gloved palm. His heart leapt into his throat and it was all he could do not to use up the last of his strength to drag her down into a  mirshmure’cya.

“We have to move!” Karga called.

“Go,” Din rasped out one last time, but Sari remained where she was, clutching his fingers like she was drowning in an ocean and his hand was the only lifeline she had been thrown.

“Escape with the others and protect the child,” the IG-11 unit offered as it inched closer, setting the baby carrier down beside the half-asleep Grogu. “I will stay with the Mandalorian.”

Din couldn’t muster a protest; his voice refused to work as Sari looked up at the droid reluctantly, her hands moving as if of their own accord to place his necklace around her neck. Instead, he watched the Mythosaur pendant settle over her heart, right where it belonged.

“Promise me you’ll bring him.”

“You have my word,” the droid agreed.

Din watched Sari’s throat work as she swallowed, her shoulders slumping in defeat at last as she turned back to him and pressed her forehead firmly against his helmet. Whether she knew she was giving him a  mirshmure’cya  herself or not, he had no idea, but he drank in the sight of her like he was dying of thirst instead of the increasingly-likely brain damage. Even as miserable and weary as she looked, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised and he didn’t have the heart to correct her, instead letting his eyes slide shut again briefly as he focused on her warm weight nestled against him. At least he would have the memory of that and the image of her face inches from his own to hold onto as he died.

When he opened his eyes, Sari and Grogu were gone. The cantina was empty, and only the droid remained in front of him. Taking a shallow breath that felt like knives in his lungs, he reached for his blaster.

* * *

“Mweh?” Grogu twisted anxiously in the carrier strapped to Sari’s front as they descended into the sewer tunnels, reaching up to pat at her damp cheeks tentatively, and she managed a weak, reassuring smile back down at him before pressing her lips to his small palm. She knew he could feel the grief and fear coursing through her like a flood and it probably frightened him, but she had no idea how to even begin controlling it enough to hide it from him.

The bruise the Stormtrooper had left on the child was just barely visible at the edge of the brown robe he wore, dark purple against his pale green skin, and Sari felt a twinge of residual anger at the Imperial soldier, even though Grogu had reassured her through wordless images that IG-11 had killed both of the Stormtroopers who had murdered Kuiil and taken Grogu captive.

No one said a word as they made their way through the sewers, either too shaken by the battle that they had fought only minutes earlier or too aware of the tears still streaking down Sari’s face that she wiped away absently from time to time. Cara led the group with Karga beside her and Kal lingered at Sari’s side, his fingers knocking against hers every so often to offer some silent comfort as they walked.

She couldn’t bring herself to take his hand properly, though, not when she knew she wouldn’t feel the brush of familiar leather against her fingers or the rough warmth of the Mandalorian’s palm sliding over hers. Wildly, she hoped that the commlink Kal had returned to her would crackle from its place on her collar and break the grim silence around her, but it remained silent as well, no familiar modulated voice on the other end reassuring her that the Mandalorian was on his way.

The strange necklace he had forced into Sari’s hands hung heavy around her neck, the beskar pendant shaped like an unknown creature’s skull dangling just within Grogu’s reach. As if reading her mind, Grogu grabbed the pendant, shoving one end into his mouth to suckle on the beskar steel as his large eyes remained fixed on her face, his tiny eyebrows knitted together in worry. Carefully, Sari pried the pendant out of his mouth, tucking the necklace underneath the collar of her shirt and out of the child’s reach.

As morbid as it was and as much as she didn’t want to think about it, she hoped that IG-11 kept its word and brought the Mandalorian even if he didn’t survive the severe head injury he had received; if he really was gone, the last thing she wanted was for the remnants of Moff Gideon’s troops to desecrate the protective shell of his armor that made up everything Sari knew he had held dear.

Footsteps behind them had them all wheeling around, Kal and Cara pushing in front of Sari and Grogu to cover them with their rifles, but Sari couldn't stop a soft, trembling breath from escaping despite herself when she saw IG-11 half-dragging, half-carrying the Mandalorian down into the sewer tunnel through a nearby vent. He was barely awake, leaning against the droid’s shoulder and tripping over his own feet with each step he managed to take, but he was very much alive, much to Sari’s relief.

“I got you,” Cara said, clearly just as glad to see them as she hurried to take the Mandalorian from IG-11, and Sari joined them at the Mandalorian’s other side, passing Grogu’s carrier to IG-11 so that she could pull the Mandalorian’s other arm over her shoulders as well. He let his head fall against her shoulder as she and Cara helped him along to rejoin the group, IG-11 trailing behind them with Grogu strapped to its front.

“Do you know which way to go?” Karga asked.

“I only entered the covert from the bazaar,” the Mandalorian admitted. “But if I remember right, continuing straight down is our best bet. I can try to find tracks from there.”

“If we follow the smell of sulfur, it’ll lead us to the plains where the lava river flows,” Kal suggested.

The Mandalorian shook his head, but Sari could feel how sluggish the movement was against her shoulder. “No. The Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship. We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.”

“This place is a maze,” Cara complained, “We won’t make it to the covert before the Imps find us, at this rate.”

“Stop,” the Mandalorian said abruptly, forcing himself fully upright. “I can stand.” Cara released his arm and Sari hesitated before doing the same on his other side, although she slid her hand back down to the small of his back as he stumbled slightly on his next step.

“The bacta infusion seems to be working,” IG-11 noted.

“How long will the healing process take?” Sari asked over her shoulder.

“Sari, I’m _fine_ ,” the Mandalorian insisted.

“Give me an estimate, IG,” she said, ignoring him.

“A few more hours, but a full recovery is to be expected,” IG-11 supplied.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, although she assumed the droid would think it was only for the information; she wasn’t sure if it could pick up on the “for saving his life and bringing him back to me” that was left unsaid.

“You are most welcome,” it rattled off, leaving her all the more uncertain whether it had understood her real sentiment or not.

“I see tracks,” the Mandalorian said, taking a few steps forward and tapping the side of his helmet briefly - probably to change it to thermal tracking mode. “We’re close. Turn here.” He rounded the corner into a nearby tunnel, but then stopped in his tracks, staring at something Sari couldn’t quite see.

“Oh, no,” Kal said with a grimace when he stopped at the Mandalorian’s side and Sari hurried forward to join them.

A pile of Mandalorian armor in various colors lay on the floor, mostly helmets with their empty visors staring up at the group. There were other pieces of armor in the pile- some were painted durasteel and some were rusted, faded beskar - but what had happened was unmistakable; the covert had likely been destroyed, and the discarded armor was all that was left of the Mandalorian’s tribe.

The Mandalorian took a few more clumsy steps forward before dropping to his knees in front of the pile, picking up one of the helmets to stare at it, and Sari closed the space between them, kneeling beside him and pressing her hand against his back gingerly.

“We don’t know that they’re all gone,” she offered tentatively.

“They wouldn’t leave their armor behind,” he said hoarsely, not looking away from the helmet in his hands.

“We need to go,” Cara insisted behind them.

“You go,” the Mandalorian answered numbly. “Take the ship. I can’t leave it this way.”

“Mando, you can’t stay here,” Kal protested.

“Did you know about this?” the Mandalorian asked abruptly, his visor turning in Karga’s direction as he set the helmet in his hands down again. “Is this the work of your bounty hunters?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karga dismissed. His tone was still calm, but Sari could see that he was clearly as shaken by the sight of the armor as everyone else was, his eyes darting warily between the empty helmets and the Mandalorian. “When you and Sari left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They’re mercenaries. They’re not zealots.”

“Did you do this?!” the Mandalorian repeated harshly, seemingly not having heard Karga as he pushed himself to his feet shakily and grabbed the lapel of Karga’s coat. “ _Did you_?!”

Sari scrambled to her feet quickly, grabbing the Mandalorian’s wrist and forcing him to look at her.

“Let him go,” she insisted. “He didn’t cause whatever happened here.”

He swallowed harshly, but loosened his hold on Karga’s coat. “Then who did?” he demanded, but she had no answer for him.

“We revealed ourselves,” an unfamiliar voice said behind them and they turned to find another Mandalorian stepping into the room.

She was tall and wore gold-tinted beskar armor with a fur cape draped over her shoulders, and Sari somehow instinctively knew she was likely well-respected within the Mandalorian’s tribe.

“We knew what could happen if we left the covert,” she added to the Mandalorian. As she spoke, she approached the pile of armor, taking a few discarded pauldrons and carrying them to a cart hovering on the other side of the room. “The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted.”

“Did any survive?” the Mandalorian asked, his shoulders slumping slightly as the fight drained out of him.

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world,” the female Mandalorian said grimly.

“Come with us,” the Mandalorian suggested.

“No. I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains,” the female Mandalorian answered, gesturing to the pile of armor.

“Any chance we can help speed the process up, then?” Sari offered impulsively, ignoring how the Mandalorian’s helmet turned sharply in her direction.

The female Mandalorian regarded Sari just long enough for her to stifle the urge to shuffle self-consciously. “Very well,” she allowed. “Bring as much of the beskar with you as you can carry, girl.”

Sari grabbed a few heavy pieces of armor from the pile - honestly, how did the Mandalorian move at all while covered in so much beskar? - and followed the female Mandalorian into the adjacent chamber, where a large forge blazed with bright blue flames.

“This is the aruetii Paz Vizsla said you escaped with?” she addressed the Mandalorian when he and the others followed them into the forge and he nodded stiffly in confirmation.

“I’m really hoping that was a nice word you just called me,” Sari deadpanned, placing the beskar pieces into the forge when the female Mandalorian gestured for her to do so; she was clearly an armorer of some kind.

“It means a non-Mandalorian,” the Mandalorian translated, his visor fixed on Sari as she worked to melt down the beskar under the Armorer’s instruction. “An outsider.”

“Well, at least it’s true,” Sari conceded, obediently stepping aside when the Armorer finally waved her away from the forge.

“Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction,” she ordered.

The Mandalorian hesitated before taking the proffered baby carrier from IG-11 and holding Grogu up for the Armorer to inspect. “This is the one.”

She took in the sight of the green child, who squirmed under the attention before turning his tiny face into the Mandalorian’s shoulder. Sari moved back around the forge to rejoin them, rubbing Grogu’s back gently to soothe him again.

“This is the one you and the aruetii hunted, then saved?” the Armorer asked, a hint of confusion entering her otherwise-impassive tone.

Sari still wasn’t convinced she liked the way the foreign word sounded when used to describe her, but she couldn’t fault its accuracy, so she bit her tongue against the automatic retort.

“The one that saved us, as well,” the Mandalorian answered.

“From the mudhorn?” the Armorer clarified, earning a nod of confirmation from the Mandalorian; evidently, he had told her the story already. “It seems helpless.”

“He’s injured, not helpless,” the Mandalorian corrected. “His species can move objects with their minds.”

“I know of such things,” the Armorer admitted. “The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers.”

“He’s an enemy?” the Mandalorian asked warily.

Even before Sari could protest, the Armorer shook her head. “No. His kind were enemies, but this individual is clearly not.”

Grogu cooed in agreement, burrowing his face into the space between the Mandalorian’s pauldron and chest plate, and the Mandalorian carefully nudged him back out before passing him, carrier and all, to Sari. She cinched the carrier back around her, rubbing the top of Grogu’s head affectionately with one finger and earning a contented gurgle.

“What is he?” the Mandalorian asked the Armorer, but Sari could see that his visor was fixed on the two of them instead.

“He is a foundling. By Creed, he is in your care,” the Armorer said simply and it was then that Sari realized what she was doing as she spoke - she was melting the armor pieces down, pouring the molten beskar steel into a stenciled mold and shaping it into something new.

“You wish me to train him?” the Mandalorian asked, bewildered, but the Armorer shook her head again.

“He is too weak. He would die. You have no choice. You must reunite him with his own kind.”

The thought made Sari’s throat tighten as she instinctively pressed her hand against Grogu’s back; even in the short time she had known Grogu, the idea of parting with him felt like a hole would be carved out of her heart the moment she let him go.

The Mandalorian swallowed and Sari hoped it was a sign that he was just as reluctant to give the child up. “Where?”

“This, you must determine.” Steam billowed around the room as the Armorer cooled the mold she had been working with.

“You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver him to a race of enemy sorcerers?” the Mandalorian demanded.

“This is the Way,” the Armorer said simply and the Mandalorian was left speechless, unable to argue. Sari felt a little stab of vindication that now he probably knew how it felt when that line was used on him instead.

“Hey, this tunnel’s gonna be lousy with Imps soon, so can we come up with an escape plan?” Cara demanded as she peered out into the hallway they had come from.

“If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream toward the lava flats,” the Armorer offered.

“We should go, then,” Karga said, but the Mandalorian was already shaking his head.

“I’m staying. I have to help her, and I need to heal.”

“I’m staying, too,” Sari added, ignoring the sharp look the Mandalorian gave her.

“You need to go with the kid,” he protested.

“IG can take Grogu,” she pointed out.

“Sari, don’t-” he began wearily.

“I’m not leaving you behind again!” she interrupted him, the retort coming out far more heated than she had it meant to, and he froze, taken aback.

“You must go,” the Armorer said firmly, cutting their argument short before the Mandalorian could recover from his shock in time. “A foundling is in your care. By Creed, until he is of age or reunited with his own kind, you are as his father.” When the Mandalorian’s helmet swiveled to face her, still dumbfounded, she repeated calmly, “This is the Way. You have earned your signet. Come.”

Taking a deep breath, the Mandalorian stepped forward as the Armorer revealed what she had been crafting with the repurposed beskar - an insignia that she began to weld onto the Mandalorian’s right pauldron. Sparks flew from the beskar surface and Sari briefly had to look away to avoid being accidentally blinded by the bright light, but as the Armorer lowered her welding torch, Sari recognized the shape of a skull with a large, curved horn - a mudhorn.

“You are a clan of two,” the Armorer announced and the Mandalorian swallowed again.

“I will wear this with honor,” he said quietly. “But you’re wrong. We’re a clan of three.”

When the Armorer tilted her helmet curiously, the Mandalorian turned and closed the space between himself and Sari in a few short strides, sliding his hand back into hers as she instinctively laced their fingers together.

“If you’ll have me,” he added quietly so that she knew he was addressing her directly.

“I will,” she answered without hesitation, her voice cracking embarrassingly as she tried to remind herself that it was only for Grogu’s sake that he was even asking her.

Some of the tension drained out of the Mandalorian’s shoulders as he ducked his head to nudge his helmet against her forehead. She shut her eyes at the cool press of beskar against her skin, hot tears sliding down her cheeks before she could stop them. Grogu let out a loud squeal between them, reaching up a tiny hand to pat at the Mandalorian’s helmet, and the Mandalorian let out a soft breath that Sari recognized as a stifled chuckle at the child’s antics.

“An aruetii in your clan is not to be taken lightly,” the Armorer warned and the Mandalorian tightened his hold on Sari’s hand as he reluctantly pulled away again. She took the opportunity to swipe at her cheeks with her free hand, drying the involuntary tears quickly.

“She can learn the  Resol’nare,” he answered stubbornly, “But whether she follows it is up to her.” Sari didn’t know entirely what that entailed, but she squeezed his fingers in a silent agreement to the terms.

The Armorer’s gold-tinted helmet turned to Sari, examining her again for a long moment before she nodded succinctly in grudging approval and turned to the IG-11 unit. “IG, please guard the outer hallway. A scouting party draws near.”

The IG-11 unit obeyed the instructions even as an explosion resounded in the distance; Stormtroopers had likely infiltrated the sewer system.

“I have one more gift for your journey,” the Armorer added to the Mandalorian. “Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?”

“When I was a boy, yes,” the Mandalorian admitted and Sari had to force herself to not try and imagine the man beside her as a stern and serious armor-clad child.

“Then this-” The Armorer picked up a sleek silver jetpack from beside the forge. “-will make you complete.”

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian said hoarsely.

“When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands,” the Armorer cautioned.

“I understand,” the Mandalorian agreed.

Blaster fire erupted in the hallway before IG-11 stepped back into the chamber, the blaster pistols clutched in both of its hands smoking.

“You are protected,” it informed the room at large.

“More will come. You must go,” the Armorer insisted.

“Come with us,” the Mandalorian tried again.

“My place is here.” The Armorer gestured to the remaining pile of armor. “Restock your munitions. IG, carry this for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it.” Sari forced herself to ignore the mention of the Mandalorian’s real name yet again as she watched the Armorer hand the Rising Phoenix to IG-11. “Now go,” the Armorer told the Mandalorian firmly, “Down to the river and across the plains. Be safe on your journey.”

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian said again quietly, ducking his head briefly in reverent gratitude before squeezing Sari’s hand and leading her across the room to a wall covered with ammunition and weapons of all kinds. “Take your pick, whatever blaster you want,” he told her as he released her hand. When she stared back at him dumbly, he reminded her, “You threw your last one at Moff Gideon and broke his nose, remember?”

“Oh. Right,” she agreed dazedly.

In truth, she had forgotten she had even lost her blaster pistol; it felt like the fight against Moff Gideon had been an eternity earlier, especially after the anguish and terror of leaving the Mandalorian behind had overtaken her mind almost entirely afterwards. She watched the Mandalorian retreat to another corner to retrieve more whistling birds and place them into his wrist gauntlet before taking some more explosive charges.

“What’s the  Resol’nare?” she blurted out before she could stop herself and he paused, his gloved fingers hovering over a spare set of whistling birds. “Did I say it wrong?” she asked, wondering if she had already screwed up her first attempt at speaking Mando’a.

“No, you just surprised me,” the Mandalorian said after a moment, tucking the set into his belt before turning to face Sari properly. She could hear the smile in his voice and instinctively felt the tension leave her as he reassured her, “But you pronounced it well.”

She flushed at the praise before quickly turning away so that he wouldn’t see just how red her face was, grabbing a blaster pistol that looked closest to the model she had lost earlier and placing it in her thigh holster. She gently batted Grogu’s hands away when he reached instinctively for the new object and he chirped indignantly, a noise she chose to ignore.

“I’ll tell you what it is later,” the Mandalorian added from behind her and she turned to find his visor still fixed on her. “When this is over.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she warned him, but she was unable to help a smile in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful  
> Mirshmure'cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Aruetii: outsider; foreigner  
> Resol'nare: Six Actions, the tenets of Mandalorian life (I'll cover what these are in the next chapter for those who don't know what they are yet, don't worry!)
> 
> Oh, that sweet angsty scene at the beginning was so satisfying to write, y'all. But don't worry, the worst of it is over as we wrap up the events of Season 1. :D
> 
> Also lmao was it obvious how hard it was for me to write two Mandalorians in the same scene without using their names? Because until Sari put together that the lady was an Armorer, I was losing my mind trying to differentiate them in a way that made sense to people. I really hope it's clear who's who in that scene!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the group finally escapes Moff Gideon's clutches.

It was only after they had all begun making their way down to the lava river that Sari chanced a look at Kal, wondering how he had taken seeing her join the Mandalorian’s clan right in front of him, but when he caught her eye, he purposely cast a glance at where her fingers was still intertwined with the Mandalorian’s before giving her a brief smile.

She let out a quiet breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as she glanced down at Grogu next, reaching up to ruffle his wispy hair gently when he burbled back up at her affectionately.

“Kid doing okay?” the Mandalorian asked beside her, his helmet tilting down to examine the child. She couldn’t quite tell how much he had healed, but the bacta infusion seemed to have worked well enough that he was no longer tripping over his own feet as he walked beside her.

“He’s okay,” she confirmed as Grogu cooed, reaching up to tangle his tiny fingers in her loose hair.

“Good.” The Mandalorian relaxed marginally, reaching up with his free hand to trail one gloved finger over one of Grogu’s ears as it twitched in the direction of his touch.

“I see the river up ahead,” Cara called over her shoulder.

Sure enough, Sari could feel her skin prickling in response to the rising temperature as the tunnel ended abruptly to reveal the flowing river of molten lava. A boat was trapped in the cooled lava near the riverbank, the old ferry droid that was meant to operate it powered down.

“The ferry droid is fried,” the Mandalorian noted with a grimace.

“Yeah, but if we push the boat out we can get it to float downstream,” Karga suggested.

“You sure it can take the heat?” Kal pointed out skeptically, eyeing the boat even as he pressed his palm against one side in an attempt to nudge the boat away from the riverbank. The boat remained where it was, solidly encased in the igneous rock.

“You got any better ideas?” Karga retorted dryly. “Come on.”

Before Sari could stop him, the Mandalorian had joined the other two men in attempting to push the boat out into the flowing lava, but it remained lodged in place. She glanced at Cara with a wry grin, hoping to commiserate with her over the pointless task, but Cara only rolled her eyes and hefted her rifle in her hands. Realizing her plan, Sari pulled her new blaster pistol out as well.

“You guys mind getting out of the way?” Cara called, only just barely giving the other three enough warning to dodge the sudden barrage of laser blasts she aimed at one side of the rock around the boat while Sari aimed at the other side, the two of them dislodging the rock with a few well-aimed blasts.

Holstering her pistol again, Sari nudged the boat free of the loosened rock, steadying it with one hand before it could drift down the river.

“Problem solved, everybody in,” she offered, not missing the appreciative once-over Kal gave Cara as she slung her rifle onto her back, hopping into the boat. He flushed when he caught sight of Sari’s rising eyebrows, pointedly not meeting her eyes as he climbed into the boat next.

“Please watch your feet,” IG-11 said politely as the Mandalorian and Karga followed Kal and Cara’s lead, “It’s molten lava.”

“Thanks for the warning, IG,” Sari deadpanned, patting the droid’s shoulder briefly before joining the others on the boat.

As IG-11 climbed into the boat last, the ferry droid abruptly came to life, beeping as its lenses whirred and attempted to focus on the boat’s passengers.

“Guess it wasn’t fried after all,” Sari noted, surprised.

“I don’t suppose anybody here speaks ‘droid?’” the Mandalorian said dryly.

“I believe he would like to know where to take us,” IG-11 translated before Sari could begin the binary conversion in her head.

“Downriver to the lava flat,” Karga supplied and the ferry droid beeped in confirmation before the boat began to float down the lava river.

Rippling waves of heat still rose from the lava around them, but the boat kept the worst of the heat out, leaving their feet spared from the molten rock beneath them as they floated along with the current. Grogu babbled to himself, seemingly far more relaxed now that they were close to being out of danger, and stretched his hands towards the Mandalorian eagerly as Sari glanced briefly at the Mandalorian to gauge his response.

His visor remained fixed on the child for a long moment before he looked up at Sari again and dipped his head once in a nod. She shuffled closer at the unspoken permission, allowing Grogu to lean over in his carrier and grasp onto one of the Mandalorian’s gloved hands with his tiny fingers.

“K’uur,  ad’ika,” the Mandalorian said quietly, reaching up with his free hand to smooth one finger over the top of Grogu’s head. “Gar buire cuy’olar.”

“Boo-ee,” Grogu gurgled, a sound Sari had never heard him make before.

“Buir,” the Mandalorian corrected gently. He didn’t sound surprised by Grogu’s attempt at actual speech, which led Sari to believe it wasn’t the first time he had tried teaching Grogu that particular word, even though it was the first time she herself had ever heard it.

“What does that mean?” she asked curiously and he shook his head.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Everything’s always ‘later’ with you,” she teased goodnaturedly, but the abrupt way his helmet jerked up towards her at the mild accusation made her feel a brief twinge of guilt. “Hey, no, it’s fine,” she insisted quickly. “Later’s fine.”

It was only because of how close she was to him that she could hear him take a deep breath in preparation to say something, but before he could, Karga interrupted, “There it is, we’re home free.”

The Mandalorian turned, pressing a control on the side of his helmet and peering at the end of the tunnel, where dim daylight filtered in.

“No, we’re not,” he said grimly. “There are Stormtroopers flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we’re coming.”

“Stop the boat,” Cara ordered the ferry droid, but it ignored her, continuing to push the boat downstream. “Hey,” Cara tried again, “I said, ‘stop the boat.’”

Sari frowned when the ferry droid remained unresponsive, passing the baby carrier with Grogu in it over to the Mandalorian before hopping up onto the platform where the droid was nestled.

“That’s weird, these circuits _are_ fried,” she pointed out as she squinted at its control panel, taking in the blackened circuits and the acrid fumes of burnt electrical parts that lingered around them. “By all rights, this droid shouldn’t even be functioning. IG, can you plug in and give me a diagnostic, please?” she requested and IG-11 extended one finger to connect to the ferry droid.

“The ferry droid is being remotely controlled by a third party,” it announced, removing the connection again as it spoke.

“Well, one way to resolve that,” Cara said, unslinging her rifle from her back again. “Get down from there, Sari.”

Sari slid down from the platform, startled, and Cara promptly shot the ferry droid through its head. The red light in its lenses died, but the boat continued to float down the lava river without slowing down.

“Well, you tried,” Kal offered reassuringly to Cara, who readjusted her grip on her rifle and glared down at the end of the tunnel darkly.

“Looks like we fight, then.”

“No,” the Mandalorian dismissed, “There are too many of them.”

“Well, then, what do you suggest?” Cara snapped back at him. “Because I’m not surrendering.”

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child,” IG-11 said, interrupting the impending argument before Sari could attempt to intervene. “This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal,” the Mandalorian told the droid distractedly, glancing down at the end of the tunnel again. Sari couldn’t see the Stormtroopers in question, but assumed he could with the thermal scanner built into his helmet. “You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective,” IG-11 said calmly and the Mandalorian’s helmet swiveled back to the droid at last. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sari blurted out before she could stop herself, realizing what IG-11 was suggesting.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed,” IG-11 informed her.

“Are we gonna keep talking or we gonna get outta here?” Karga demanded behind them.

“I can no longer carry this for you,” IG-11 said, placing the Rising Phoenix on the floor of the boat at the Mandalorian’s feet. “Nor can I watch over the child.” Its lenses focused on Grogu, still nestled in the Mandalorian’s arms, as the child let out a soft, mournful sound, his large eyes fixed on IG-11’s expressionless face.

“Wait. You can’t self-destruct.” The Mandalorian sounded hoarse suddenly, to Sari’s surprise. “Your base command is to watch the child. That supersedes your manufacturer’s protocol, right?” When IG-11 remained silent, he pressed, “ _Right_?”

“That is correct,” IG-11 allowed, but Sari could hear the reluctance in the droid’s vocabulator as it did so; she hadn’t even been aware that droids _could_ feel reluctance, but she gave a silent thanks to Kuiil’s patient teachings during IG-11’s rehabilitation, for whatever good they had done.

“Great,” the Mandalorian said, clearly relieved, “Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.”

“Victory through combat is impossible,” IG-11 admitted. “We will be captured. The child will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive.”

“Listen, you’re not going anywhere,” the Mandalorian protested heatedly, “We need you. Let’s just come up with a-”

“Please tell me the child will be safe in your care,” IG-11 interrupted. “If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.”

“But you’ll be destroyed,” the Mandalorian pointed out.

“And you will live,” IG-11 agreed, “And I will have fulfilled my purpose.”

“No,” the Mandalorian repeated, but Sari didn’t miss the way his voice cracked slightly through the modulator in his helmet. Instinctively, she slid her hand into his and he clutched it tightly, still staring at the droid. “We need you.”

“There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive,” IG-11 reassured him.

“I’m not - sad,” the Mandalorian answered stiltedly.

“Yes you are. I’m a nurse droid. I’ve analyzed your voice,” IG-11 informed him matter-of-factly.

“Run the numbers again,” Sari said abruptly, ignoring how the Mandalorian’s helmet swung down to her. “There _has_ to be a scenario where we all make it out.”

IG-11 turned to face her as well, its processor whirring briefly. “I have run the numbers. There are zero scenarios.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Grogu will be safe in our care, then,” she promised.

“Very well.” IG-11’s lenses blinked slowly once before reaching out one mechanical finger to brush it over Grogu’s ear. With that silent farewell, the droid stepped off the boat and into the lava river, trudging steadily towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

The Mandalorian’s fingers tightened on Sari’s as they all watched the droid reach the end of the tunnel in silence, its lenses swiveling around at the platoon of Stormtroopers surrounding it.

“Manufacturer’s protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must be destroyed,” it announced unceremoniously before promptly exploding into a ball of flames and smoke that engulfed the entire tunnel exit briefly.

Sari flinched automatically, her eyes shutting to avoid the sight, and the Mandalorian tugged her into his side, allowing her to press her face into his pauldron as his arm slid around her properly to clutch her tightly. Grogu whimpered softly and Sari reached up instinctively to press her hand to the child’s back as he remained nestled in the crook of the Mandalorian’s other arm, still strapped into his carrier.

“Are we clear?” Cara asked after a long moment once the smoke had finally cleared from the end of the tunnel and the Mandalorian took a moment to scan the exit as the boat began to near it.

“That was all of them,” he confirmed and sure enough, as the boat floated out into the open, Sari could see the charred bodies of Stormtroopers littering the riverbank.

She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat at the nauseating sight, but before she could even consider looking around for any sign of IG-11’s remnants, the distinctive sound of a TIE fighter soaring overhead had them all looking up immediately.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara called a warning as the TIE fighter opened fire on them. The Mandalorian yanked Sari down to the bottom of the boat, shielding her and Grogu with the advantage of his beskar armor as Cara and Kal began to fire back with their rifles and Karga did his best to help them with his pistol.

“He missed,” Kal pointed out as the TIE fighter soared past them, vanishing over the mountain range in the distance.

“He won’t when he comes back,” Cara retorted grimly.

“Let’s make the baby do the magic hand thing,” Karga suggested as the Mandalorian climbed off Sari, passing Grogu to her. “Come on, baby! Do the magic hand thing!” Karga demonstrated by waving three fingers at Grogu, who gurgled before waving back at him.

“He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit,” Sari said dryly, patting Grogu’s back affectionately before setting him on the bench seat of the boat.

“I’m out of ideas,” Karga admitted.

“I’m not,” the Mandalorian said and Sari turned to find him staring thoughtfully at the sky where the TIE fighter had vanished before he slowly turned to look at the jetpack on the floor of the boat beside them.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she warned him, realizing what he was planning. “You’re not supposed to use that until you’re fully healed.”

“I’m fine,” he dismissed, but he couldn’t quite stifle a grunt of pain as he pulled the Rising Phoenix onto his back and cinched it against his armor.

“You’re only going to make your injuries worse,” Sari protested, but he turned sharply and pressed his forehead against hers abruptly, the impact of beskar against her skin hard enough to force her to just barely suppress a wince.

“You trust me?” he asked quietly.

“I do,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Then trust that I’ll come back to you.” He reached up, brushing his gloved fingers through her hair and tucking it behind her ear for her before pulling back just as the TIE fighter came zooming back towards them.

Sari watched with growing dread as the Mandalorian activated the Rising Phoenix and took off through the air before the jets cut out and he stretched out his wrist gauntlet, launching the whipcord and grappling onto the TIE fighter in one swift move as it soared underneath him.

“That guy’s gonna kill you with sheer stress alone,” Kal said from behind her, sounding vaguely awed at the feat the Mandalorian had just accomplished.

“If I don’t kill him for stressing me out first,” she answered grimly, keeping her eyes fixed on the aerial fight above them.

Even as she watched anxiously, the Mandalorian pulled himself towards the TIE fighter with his attached whipcord, planting two explosive charges on its wing before retracting the cable and falling away from the TIE fighter as the charges detonated. The TIE fighter spiraled out of control, crashing somewhere beyond the mountains and out of sight, and Sari instinctively lurched out of the boat and onto the riverbank, careful not to let her feet slip into the flowing lava below.

“I’ve got the kid,” Kal reassured her and she glanced over her shoulder to see him giving her a faint smile as he scooped Grogu up. “Go make sure he’s okay.”

She gave him a brief smile of thanks before taking off at a run to where the Mandalorian had landed unsteadily on the ground, bracing himself just in time to keep from being knocked over as she threw her arms around his neck. His collar was stiff with his own dried blood, but she ignored it as she pressed her head underneath his chin.

“Of all the kriffing stupid stunts I’ve seen you pull, that probably ranks at number one,” she mumbled into the hollow of his throat and one of his arms slid around her waist after a moment, his other hand cradling the back of her head gingerly.

“I told you I’d come back to you,” he reminded her quietly, ducking his head to press his visor against the top of her head.

“You did,” she agreed with a faint smile despite herself, pulling back just enough to press her forehead against his. “Thank you.” His helmet remained as expressionless as ever, but his arm around her waist tightened briefly, squeezing her close.

“That was very impressive, Mando,” Karga said from behind them and Sari reluctantly released the Mandalorian, though he kept his arm looped around her waist tightly as they both turned to the approaching group. “Very impressive. Looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

“Any more Stormtroopers?” the Mandalorian asked, his voice impassive and all business again.

“I’d say we cleaned up the town,” Cara reassured him, “And I’m thinking of sticking around just to be sure.”

“You’re staying?” Sari asked, bewildered, before catching the brief smile Cara and Kal exchanged. “Oh, no, Kal, she’s gonna snap you in half like a twig,” she warned, earning a barely-stifled snort of laughter from underneath the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Is that a promise?” Kal joked, grinning as he held Grogu’s carrier out. “Between the three of us, we’ve got the town covered, don’t worry.”

Sari couldn’t help but smile faintly as she scooped Grogu out of Kal’s hold, nestling the child in her arms and pressing a soft kiss between his tiny eyebrows as he beamed widely back up at her.

“Besides, Nevarro is a very fine planet. And now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again,” Karga pointed out, back to his usual boisterous self now that the danger had passed.

“As a bounty hunter hive?” the Mandalorian deadpanned, but his visor was fixed down at the child in Sari’s arms, who gurgled at him happily before holding out his tiny arms. The Mandalorian obediently took Grogu from Sari, nestling him against one shoulder carefully as the child burrowed into the space between his chest plate and pauldron.

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters.” Karga raised his eyebrows at the Mandalorian and Sari to make his point. “And perhaps this specimen of soldier might consider joining our ranks.” He clapped Cara’s shoulder as she wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, I’ve got a few clerical concerns about my chain code?”

Karga waved it off easily. “If you would agree to become my enforcer, clerical concerns would be the least of your worries. But you, my friends-” He turned back to the Mandalorian and Sari. “-you will be welcome back into the Guild with open arms. So when you’re ready to return, you will have the pick of all quarries.”

“We’ll probably have more pressing matters at hand for a while until we find Grogu’s people,” Sari admitted, glancing briefly at Grogu before meeting the Mandalorian’s gaze through his visor as he dipped his head in silent agreement.

“So is it straight back out for you three?” Cara asked as she stepped forward to brush her finger fondly over Grogu’s head in a brief goodbye. Grogu cooed back at her, grasping her finger and shaking it in return.

“We’ll bring the Crest closer to town first,” the Mandalorian said with a brief shake of his head. “We need to find the hover-pod we left back at the cantina and the data-stick Moff Gideon had with Sari’s file on it.”

“I think the data-stick is a lost cause,” Sari admitted, causing him to tilt his helmet back down to her. “If it wasn’t smashed to bits under all those Stormtroopers’ feet, they would’ve probably snatched it back up by now,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’s not all that important, anyway.”

“Oh, well, if that’s how you feel about it, you probably don’t want this,” Kal said cheerfully, holding up a distinctly familiar silver data-stick, and Sari gaped at him for a long moment.

“Are you _kidding_ me?! You had it this whole time and you didn’t _say_ anything?!” she demanded once she had recovered her voice and he flushed slightly.

“Well, I only just barely had time to grab it off the ground and we were kind of running away from Stormtroopers, there wasn’t really an opportune moment - ow!” He rubbed his shoulder ruefully where Sari’s fist had connected with it. “Careful with her right hook,” he warned the Mandalorian. “It leaves bruises for _days_.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” the Mandalorian agreed, sounding vaguely amused.

“Be careful pulling on that thread,” Kal added more seriously to Sari, holding the data-stick out to her. “If what Moff Gideon said was true, there’s a lot to unpack in there.”

“I’ll be careful,” she agreed, taking the data-stick and tucking it into a pouch on her belt before sliding her arms briefly around him. “Thank you. Really.”

“Anytime. I’ve always got your back,” he promised her, squeezing her back gently. “What, is she not allowed to hug other people now that she’s in your clan, Mando?” he added teasingly over Sari’s head and she turned to find the Mandalorian’s visor fixed on the pair of them, his shoulders tight with tension.

“Sari can hug whomever she wants,” he answered stiffly and Sari rolled her eyes fondly before releasing Kal and making her way back to the Mandalorian’s side, sliding her arm around him to find the small of his back and press her palm there.

“Relax,” she told him quietly and to her surprise, he did, his helmet lowering to press briefly against her forehead once more before he passed Grogu back to her. She slid the baby carrier on, cinching the straps around her shoulders as Grogu waved his tiny hands at Cara, Kal, and Karga.

“Take care of this little one,” Cara told them with one last fond smile at Grogu.

“Or maybe he’ll take care of you two,” Karga added as the Mandalorian turned to Sari once Grogu was secure against her.

“Ready to go?”

“Depends, are we walking because you still shouldn’t be using the jetpack while injured?” she reminded him wryly.

She could sense more than see the eye-roll he gave her even as his arm looped around her waist again. “Just hold on tight.”

Reluctantly, Sari gave up on protesting as the Mandalorian activated the Rising Phoenix again and their feet left the ground. Instinctively, she tightened her own arm around the Mandalorian’s back, earning a soft chuckle above her and proving her point that he only seemed to have a sense of humor at her own expense.

“I won’t let you fall,” he reminded her as they leveled out, angling them in the direction of the Razor Crest.

“I know, but that doesn’t make this any less terrifying,” she retorted.

Grogu squealed with laughter as they soared through the air, his tiny arms waving as he tilted his head up to feel the wind rushing past them, and Sari couldn’t help but relax marginally at the wave of sheer delight the child pushed in her direction, cracking a smile down at him where he was nestled between her and the Mandalorian’s chest plate.

The child’s delight faded as they neared the Razor Crest and Sari could see why as his large eyes fixed on the dead body laying feet away from the ship’s open ramp. She swallowed back the lump in her throat, pressing her cheek against the cool beskar of the Mandalorian’s pauldron to keep her own composure. The Mandalorian said nothing as they landed on the ground, stumbling a little until Sari steadied him again, before his helmet turned in Kuiil’s direction.

“We should bury him,” he said quietly. “There’s a shovel in the ship’s storage cabinet. Can you put Grogu down and bring it out?”

“Yeah.” Sari squeezed his hand briefly before reluctantly releasing it to head into the Razor Crest.

She set Grogu down in his hammock with a brief kiss to the top of his head as he whimpered softly before finding the shovel and bringing it back out to the Mandalorian, who had already begun marking a spot for a grave to be dug out for Kuiil. He held his hand out for the shovel, but Sari ignored him, stamping her foot down on the blade of the shovel to drive it into the ground.

“Last I checked, I’m not the one with a head injury,” she reminded him when she noticed his visor fixed disappointedly on the side of her head.

“How many times do I have to say I’m fine before you believe me?” he sighed long-sufferingly.

“At least once more,” she answered, barely resisting the urge to elbow him as she worked to dig the grave instead.

“Hey, no, stay on the ship, kid,” the Mandalorian scolded suddenly over her head and she glanced over her shoulder to see that Grogu had clambered out of his hammock and made his way back out of the ship, lingering at the end of the ramp as his large eyes darted between Kuiil’s body and the grave Sari was digging.

“He’s upset,” she translated when the child pushed a wave of anxiety and guilt towards her. “He blames himself for what happened. Let me finish this up, go talk to him.”

The Mandalorian glanced between her and Grogu briefly before letting out a quiet sigh and closing the gap between himself and the child to scoop him up. He settled Grogu against his shoulder, murmuring something softly enough that Sari couldn’t quite hear it. Grogu whined back up at him, tears rolling down his cheeks, and the Mandalorian reached up to thumb them away before hauling him close.

As Sari set the shovel aside and did her best to keep her throat from closing up with grief while she moved Kuiil into the grave she had dug, she could hear the low baritone humming of the lullaby she and the Mandalorian shared from their childhood behind her. As an afterthought, she took the goggles off Kuiil’s head, setting it aside before grabbing the shovel again and carefully pouring the dirt she had unearthed back into the grave to cover the Ugnaught’s body.

As focused as she was on her work, she didn’t notice the Mandalorian approaching her again until his hand pressed gently against her shoulder.

“Give me the shovel. I’ll help finish up.” She reluctantly passed him the shovel and he scraped the last of the dirt over the grave, kneeling beside her to pat it down.

“Where’s Grogu?” she asked, swiping the back of her sleeve over her eyes briefly to rid them of their sharp stinging. “What were you telling him?”

“I put him back down in his hammock once he calmed down,” the Mandalorian said, nodding back to the ship. “And I told him it wasn’t his fault. Don’t know if he believed me, but it’s true.”

“We all knew the risks we were taking,” Sari agreed, taking the goggles and placing them over the small mound of dirt to create a makeshift grave marker.

“Did Kuiil know?” The Mandalorian set the shovel aside, not meeting her gaze. “Did my tribe know?”

“They came out of hiding on purpose,” she reminded him. “They made that choice to protect you. They would have known the risks.”

He swallowed harshly as his visor remained fixed on the grave in front of them before turning suddenly and pressing his head against her shoulder. She wobbled slightly, startled by the sudden weight of him against her, but slid her arms around him in the next instant, clutching him tightly as he let out a long, shaky breath.

“The covert was still destroyed because of me,” he said quietly at last.

“We don’t know that they’re all gone,” she offered, unsure how to erase the trembling in his voice. “Whoever made it off-world, we’ll find them.”

“They might not have made it,” he pointed out, but he was already beginning to relax against her as she found the small of his back, pressing her palm against the solid warmth she found there.

“Or they might have,” she countered. “It’s a big galaxy. We won’t know until we try looking.”

Her other hand found the nape of his neck just beneath his helmet and she brushed her thumb against the warm patch of skin she found there, hidden beneath the thin cloth material of his cape. He let out another soft breath at the touch and she imagined he had shut his eyes beneath his helmet as he sank in a little more against her.

“We should get moving,” she suggested after waiting several seconds to allow him a much-needed moment of respite. “The sooner we grab the hover-pod from town and get into hyperspace, the sooner we can all get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” He pulled back and she reluctantly let her hands fall away from him as he climbed unsteadily to his feet again. “Let’s go.” She followed his lead, brushing dirt off her knees before returning to the Razor Crest with him.

“Mweh?” Grogu peered out of the hammock and Sari couldn’t help but smile as she crossed the distance between herself and the sleeping berth to scoop the child back up.

“It’s alright,” she reassured him when he patted at her cheek anxiously. “We’re okay, bud.” Settling him on her hip, she climbed up to the bridge after the Mandalorian, settling into the co-pilot’s seat beside him as he initiated the takeoff sequence.

“What’s he got there?” he asked abruptly and Sari glanced down to see that Grogu had somehow wiggled the Mandalorian’s necklace back out of her shirt, the skull pendant stuck firmly in his mouth.

“Hey, stop that,” she scolded Grogu, pulling the pendant out of his mouth and wiping it clean of baby saliva with her sleeve. “Sorry, I forgot I still had it on me. Here.” She pulled the necklace over her head, holding it out by the thin black cord to the Mandalorian.

He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head, covering her hand clutching the necklace and pressing it back towards her. “Hang onto it for me. Kid seems to like it, anyway.” He glanced down pointedly to where Grogu was attempting to reach for the pendant again, cooing eagerly.

“Oh. Okay.” Sari flushed a little before sliding the necklace back on after a moment’s hesitation, letting Grogu clutch the pendant and suckle on the end of it.

“It’s a Mythosaur,” the Mandalorian added as he turned back to the control panel, tapping a few buttons to make the Razor Crest roar to life beneath them. “An extinct creature from Mandalore. Over the years, its skull became a symbol for Mandalorians of all tribes and clans.”

Sari gently nudged the pendant out of Grogu’s mouth to examine the Mythosaur skull. “The pendant’s made of beskar?” she asked, even though she had already guessed as much since she couldn’t mistake the heavy weight of the pendant for anything else, and the Mandalorian dipped his head in silent confirmation. “Then technically, I shouldn’t be wearing this,” she pointed out and his helmet turned sharply to her.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because I’m not a Mandalorian,” she reminded him, startled by the sudden intensity in his voice; if she didn’t know better, she would have assumed she had indirectly insulted him rather than herself.

“You’re part of my clan,” he said firmly. “That means you have a right to what’s mine, whether you adhere to the Resol’nare or don’t.”

“You said you’d explain what that meant,” Sari remembered, rubbing Grogu’s back as the child yawned and leaned heavily against her.

The Mandalorian hesitated before admitting, “They’re the six core tenets of being a Mandalorian. Children are taught a saying at an early age to remember them. Ba’jur, beskar’gam, aranov, aliit, Mando’a, bal Mand’alor - an vencuyan mhi.” He rattled it off easily, clearly having memorized it early on in life.

“You’re going to have to break that down for me,” Sari admitted, far too lost to try and even attempt repeating the saying. She glanced down briefly at Grogu to find that his eyes had slid shut and he had fallen fast asleep against her, one tiny hand clutching the Mythosaur pendant and the other loosely tangled in her hair.

The Mandalorian huffed a quiet chuckle at her confusion. “Ba’jur,” he repeated slowly, “Education in weaponry or survival skills or anything else necessary. That’s more important for children growing up as Mandalorians. Then there’s  beskar’gam, the armor we wear.  Aranov  is defense, both of oneself and one’s clan. Between the two of us, we have that covered.”

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Sari agreed distractedly, focusing more on committing each word to memory.

“Aliit,” the Mandalorian continued, “Clan, or family. You’ve heard that one before.  Mando’a, the language. I’ll translate what I say more often, if you’re interested in learning it.” She nodded and could hear the smile in his voice as he went on, “Mand’alor, the leader of all Mandalorian clans. When the Mand’alor calls, all Mandalorians must answer.”

“So who’s the Mand’alor now?” Sari asked curiously and the Mandalorian shrugged.

“We don’t have one. The Great Purge of Mandalore saw to that, and no one sits on the throne now.”

“What about the last part of the saying?” Sari asked as she mentally recited the words again, realizing she hadn’t heard a translation of the last few words.

“An vencuyan mhi,” the Mandalorian repeated as they neared the town, the Razor Crest lowering to the ground slowly. “‘All help us survive.’”

“I mean, if you’re serious about teaching me Mando’a, I’ve pretty much got most of them now,” Sari reasoned. “Only thing missing is the armor.”

She could see the Mandalorian’s shoulders tense briefly out of the corner of her eye. “Do you _want_ armor?” he asked warily.

“No, that’s okay,” she reassured him, climbing to her feet once the Crest had fully landed and setting Grogu down in her abandoned seat. “You’d miss my face too much if it was hidden behind a helmet.”

“I would,” he confirmed.

Flustered by the unexpected agreement, she stumbled on her next step, which drew a snort of laughter from him.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get that pod before you make me trip again by saying shit like that,” she said a little too loudly, earning a disgruntled squeak from Grogu as he stirred from his brief nap. She apologetically reached down and rubbed the child’s back until he dozed off again.

“You make it sound like I’m not coming with you,” the Mandalorian pointed out as he pushed himself to his feet, but the way he wobbled unsteadily, clearly exhausted and still injured, made it easy for Sari to gently shove him back down into his seat.

“You’re not,” she told him pointedly. “It’s just a quick run into town and back. I’ve got my commlink with me, anyway, and you need to rest.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted, struggling to climb to his feet again, but she kept her hand steady on his shoulder to hold him in place. Thankfully, he didn’t put up much of a struggle.

“Tell you what.” She dug into the pouch on her belt with her free hand for the data-stick Kal had given her, holding it out. “Put Grogu down in his hammock and keep yourself busy reading what’s on here for me.”

The Mandalorian froze, his helmet swiveling between Sari’s face and the data-stick she held out to him. “But _you_ haven’t read it yet,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, you can tell me if it’s worth reading or not.” She shrugged easily, but couldn’t quite hide the insistence in her voice as she added, “I want you to read it first. Please.”

At least if whatever was on that data-stick was that bad, she reasoned, he would have time to change his mind about having her in his clan and take off before she got back with the hover-pod.

He swallowed, but obediently took the data-stick from her, turning it over between his fingers carefully. “Okay,” he conceded at last.

“Great. See you in a bit, Mando.” She released his shoulder, satisfied he wasn’t going to get up and follow her, as she headed for the ladder.

“You’re not using my name,” he blurted out and she froze, removing her foot from the first rung of the ladder as she turned to face him again.

“What?”

“You know my real name,” he clarified. “But you’re still calling me ‘Mando.’”

“Well, to be fair, you also know my real name and you call me multiple nicknames, I think I’m entitled to one,” Sari deadpanned.

“ _Sarika_.” She had never heard him address her by her full first name and the grim seriousness in his voice made whatever pithy retort she could muster die in her throat. “Why aren’t you using my name?”

“Because you didn’t give it to me freely,” she admitted, dropping her gaze away from him.

Silence hung in the air of the Razor Crest for a long moment before the Mandalorian suddenly burst into incredulous laughter she had never heard before from him, loud and deep and rich even through the voice modulator.

“How is that in any way funny?” Sari demanded, flushing with embarrassment even as her heart did multiple backflips at the sound of his laughter, warm and genuine in a way that made her want to throw all caution to the wind and crush her mouth against his smiling one.

“It’s not, I’m sorry,” he agreed around another chuckle as he forced his amusement down for her sake, climbing to his feet. “It’s very considerate of you.” He closed the space between them, holding his hand out to her. “Din Djarin. Nice to meet you, Sarika Amin.” Sari stared at him dumbly and he let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing her hand from where it hung limply at her side to shake it briefly before dropping it again. “There. No more excuses. Use my name.”

She swallowed, venturing, “I’m guessing only when it’s the three of us?” She nodded to Grogu, who had sat up in the co-pilot’s chair to grumble sleepily at them for interrupting his nap.

“You’d be right.” The Mandalorian - Din - slid his fingers back into Sari’s, squeezing her hand again briefly. “Come back soon,  mesh’la.”

“I will, Din,” she promised, his name tingling on her tongue even as she released his hand and slid down the ladder to leave the ship.

She hoped it would still be there when she returned, but didn’t dare hold her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations (this chapter was a doozy to write all these translations for):
> 
> K'uur: hush  
> Ad'ika: little one; child  
> Gar buire cuy'olar: Your parents are here  
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Resol'nare: Six Actions, the tenets of Mandalorian life  
> Ba'jur, beskar'gam, aranov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor - an vencuyan mhi: education, armor, defense, clan, language, and leader - all help us survive  
> Ba'jur: education  
> Beskar'gam: armor  
> Aranov: defense  
> Aliit: clan; family  
> Mando'a: language  
> Mand'alor: sole ruler  
> An vencuyan mhi: all help us survive  
> Mesh'la: beautiful
> 
> GROGU SPEAKS. I was honestly trying to hold out on getting him to attempt to say "buir" or anything in Mando'a until Season 2, but I couldn't resist it, the scene wrote itself.
> 
> Also, Din actually explains something to Sari! I know it's not the conversation y'all were waiting for, but watch this space because the slow burn is about to pay off in a couple days, fam 👀


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our clan of three finally gets some much-needed rest.

_Data Log 67: Numerous trials have shown SD-523’s remarkable potential for telepathic communication. When she cooperates, the subject is capable of projecting images to her mother and reading thoughts aimed at her. However, SD-523 is more prone to using verbal communication over telepathy. Shock collar advised if she continues to speak out of turn to dissuade her from trying._

Din didn’t realize how tightly he was holding the datapad in his hands until the plastoid frame began to crack under the pressure, forcing him to loosen his grip. Sari was still in town, possibly still searching for the hover-pod amidst the wreckage of the cantina, and Grogu was deeply asleep in his hammock downstairs, having easily dozed off again the moment Din had pressed the stuffed mudhorn toy into his tiny hands.

_Data Log 100: SD-523 has shown significant progress in levitation of small objects - mainly building blocks. Her mother’s attention and praise seem to be the best motivators when it comes to her training. Given that and more time, SD-523 may one day prove to be more powerful than any true Force-wielder we have seen thus far._

The log entries on the data-stick - all one hundred and sixty of them, ranging weekly from Sari’s birth to the time she was stolen out of Imperial custody by her own mother just after her third birthday - had been written and signed off by Dr. Tarek Amin, Sari’s biological father. Not once had he called his own daughter by name in any of his reports, nor had he ever acknowledged her as anything more than a test subject.

_Data Log 5: SD-523 cries and is generally uncooperative when she can’t see her mother in the same room. Recommend bacta tank storage between studies to maintain a subconscious state so that she is not aware of the separation. This will also be beneficial for the eventuality that she will need to heal between experiments._

Din scrolled past the log entries while trying not to imagine Sari as an infant - only five weeks old, if the log entry number was accurate - floating in a bacta tank, lifeless and unaware of her surroundings, only to find several video files attached instead. Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, he played the first video.

A human child hardly larger than Grogu with a thin, black metal band encircling her neck - Sari, Din realized when she looked briefly up at the camera with hazel eyes he would know anywhere - sat on the white tile floor, organizing the Basic alphabet blocks scattered around her in alphabetical order as a woman crouched beside her. The woman was nearly identical to the Sari Din knew now, but her eyes were brown instead and crinkled with fondness as she smiled down at her daughter.

“Keep going, Sari,” she encouraged softly when the toddler’s fingers hovered over a block hesitantly. Even her voice sounded like Sari’s might have if years of silence hadn’t damaged it, low and rich like warm honey without the underlying rasp. “You’ve almost got it.”

“Mama, I-” Sari began, glancing up at her mother, but then the black band around her neck flashed white, humming with power, and the child’s spine stiffened, her small fingers clutching her throat instinctively. The electric shock had been weak, but it had been enough to make tears well in her eyes.

“You mustn’t speak,” her mother cautioned, her smile slipping off her face as her eyebrows furrowed with sorrow and guilt. “Remember, my starlight? You have to think at me if you want to say something. No more tears now, back to work.”

Sari nodded solemnly as she swiped at her eyes roughly with her sleeve and focused on her blocks again, her tiny mouth set in a grim line, and Din shut the datapad off entirely, dropping it onto the console before he could give into the urge to smash it into pieces.

“I’m back!” Sari announced from downstairs, her footsteps heading past the ladder to the sleeping berths; she was likely checking on Grogu first.

Din took the opportunity to unplug the data-stick from the datapad, tempted to snap it in half before Sari could ever have the chance to read the log files and see just what she had been through in the first three years of her life.

He forced himself to ignore the urge as Sari called out again, a hint of hesitation in her voice, “Din?”

The sound of his own name caught him off-guard for a split moment; hearing it said out loud would take some getting used to now that Sari knew it.

“Upstairs,” he forced out past the lump in his throat, turning in his seat as Sari climbed up the ladder and entered the bridge.

“Hey,” she said cheerfully, but he didn’t miss the wary glance she gave the data-stick still clutched in his hand. “Did I miss anything juicy in there?”

“Did you get the pod?” Din changed the subject, hoping his voice didn’t sound too wrecked.

“Yeah, I found it in the cantina, totally intact and everything.” She blinked, taken aback; whatever had made it through had probably been enough to alarm her. “I left it downstairs with the rest of our supplies. What did-?”

Not giving her the chance to finish her question, he placed the data-stick underneath the console and pushed himself out of his seat, crossing the distance between them and crushing her against his chest.

“Yikes,” she said sympathetically, her arms sliding around him after a long moment to clutch him back. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” he confirmed grimly as he ducked his head to press his chin against the top of her head, wondering how she could be so cavalier about it all. “You can read it now, if you want.”

“Not really up to it tonight,” she admitted after a moment as she sank in against him wearily, the day’s events clearly having taken just as much a mental toll on her as it had him. “Where are we headed next?”

“Sorgan,” he told her and she pulled back to level a confused frown up at him. “We made a deal,” he reminded her, “When this is all over, we’re staying a week or two in your village or your sister will kill us.”

Sari cracked a smile. “Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.” She ducked her head back underneath his chin and he took the opportunity to squeeze her tightly, silently reassuring himself that despite whatever had happened in her first few years of life, she was alive and safe with him now.

“What do you remember of it? Your time with the Empire?” he asked, praying that her seemingly photographic memory didn’t extend that far.

To his immense relief, she shook her head against his chest as she answered, “Nothing. My earliest memory is my mother having me sent away and after that, it’s only memories of growing up with Omera’s family on Sorgan.”

“Good,” Din said firmly before he could stop himself and Sari pulled back again, her eyebrows rising high on her forehead.

“Really that bad?” she asked again, bewildered.

“Really that bad,” he agreed.

“Bad enough that you’re thinking twice about this whole ‘clan of three’ thing?” she ventured.

“Dini’la,” he told her sharply and she flinched, startled. “That means ‘insane,’ which is exactly how you sound right now,” he translated, forcing himself to sound a little less harsh in the face of how large and round with panic her eyes had suddenly become.

“Oh,” she said faintly even as her eyes darted warily over the visor of his helmet, clearly searching for some sign of what he was thinking.

It was far too easy to see the resemblance to her younger self’s eyes in the video as the shock collar around her neck delivered an electric jolt to her system just for speaking out loud, something no child should have ever had to fear, and he reached up impulsively, letting one hand brush back her loose hair and push it out of her face for her.

“We’re in this together,  mesh’la,” he promised. “That’s not changing, no matter what that data-stick contains. Are we clear?”

Sari swallowed hard, a sign that she wouldn’t answer out loud - Din knew her cues well enough by now to guess accurately when her vocal cords refused to cooperate with her - as she nodded mutely and pressed her face back into the crook of his neck, nestling her head between the underside of his helmet and his pauldron. He clutched her back just as tightly, stamping down the temptation to just tell her everything he’d read and seen; she needed the time to process through all of it at her own pace.

“I’ll get us into hyperspace,” he offered after a moment of allowing himself to soak in her warmth against him, “You should go downstairs, get cleaned up and get some sleep.”

“Only if you do, too,” she answered, her voice muffled by his neck, and he nudged her back just enough to press a mirshmure’cya against her forehead, taking in the instinctive smile that formed on her lips.

“I will,” he promised her, unable to help a smile of his own that she couldn’t see. “I’ll come down once the path’s set for Sorgan.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” She pulled back reluctantly. “See you in a few.” With that, she made her way to the ladder and headed downstairs.

As Din returned to the pilot’s seat and began the takeoff sequence, he heard the refresher door slide open and then shut after Sari, the subtle creak of the pipes indicating the flow of hot water through the ship as she started her shower. He kept the ship’s ascent as smooth as possible for her sake as he took the Razor Crest up and out of Nevarro’s atmosphere, leveling it out, and it was only after he heard the refresher door open and shut again that he felt safe in making the jump into hyperspace.

Sari was leaning against the open door of Grogu’s sleeping berth when he made his way downstairs after setting the auto-navigation system to target Sorgan, brushing the tangles out of her damp hair with her fingers as she hummed absently to the half-awake child inside.

“Boo-ee,” Grogu gurgled sleepily from the hammock.

“I don’t know what that means, kiddo,” Sari sighed heavily, but her voice held so much affection for the child in front of her that it was all Din could do not to slide his arms around her and pull her back into an embrace. “All I know is that it’s that one word you tried to say before.”

“Buir,” Din supplied and Sari jumped, clearly not having heard him approach; she really must have been exhausted, then, if her spatial awareness was so low. “It means ‘parent,’” he added for her sake; he had told Grogu what it had meant before, but he wasn’t sure how much the child had grasped the concept. “The word for him is  ad’ika. It’s a familiar term for a child.”

“Oh.” Sari flushed slightly - though that could have been due to the residual heat from her shower - before turning back to Grogu, whose large eyes were already sliding shut. “Go back to sleep,  ad’ika,” she murmured fondly.

The way Mando’a seemed to fall seamlessly off her tongue - like she was meant to speak the language - made Din’s heart twist painfully in his chest even as she turned on him again.

“And _you_ go shower.” She poked her finger just beneath his chest plate against his bruised, aching ribs, and he rolled his eyes beneath his helmet as he reached up to tug one of her loose curls in a gentle retaliation; even a month earlier, he wouldn’t have dreamed of being this familiar with anyone, and yet it came so easily with Sari now.

“Only if _you_ go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him off, but he could see the smile on her face as she slipped into the sleeping berth next door, the door sliding shut behind her as she climbed underneath the thin covers of the bed. Din took one last glance at Grogu, who was sound asleep again, before carefully shutting the child’s door behind him and heading to the refresher for his own shower.

Scrubbing the dried blood and grime out of his armor and clothes, followed by his hair and skin once he stripped down to nothing, had never felt more satisfying. The newly-healed skin on his scalp where his head had quite literally been cracked open still ached sharply as the hot water rinsed over it, so he was careful in washing his hair around that spot before focusing on drying himself off and dressing in only the kute he usually wore beneath his armor and his helmet.

He left the rest of his armor in the drying chamber, deciding to not think about it until after a few hours’ rest, and slipped into the sleeping berth Sari was in.

She was already sprawled out on the bed, seemingly fast asleep with how loose and relaxed her limbs were, but one hazel eye cracked open briefly just as the sleeping berth door slid shut behind him again and engulfed them in darkness.

“Hi,” she greeted him around a yawn.

“Hi.” He took a seat on the edge of the cot, nudging her shoulder. “Move over?”

“Mm,” she hummed in acquiescence, shuffling over so that he could lay down beside her before promptly rolling back into his side and tucking herself underneath his arm like she was made to fit there. “Go to sleep, Din,” she mumbled, as if she wasn’t well on her way to passing out herself, and he huffed a quiet chuckle, ignoring the way his heart leapt into his throat at the sound of his name on her lips.

“You first,  cyar’ika.”

“Deal.” She turned her face into his shoulder even as her breathing evened out into something slower and deeper.

He ducked his head to press one last mirshmure’cya against her forehead for the night before nestling his chin on top of her head, vaguely aware of her soft, steady breaths brushing against his collarbone as he allowed himself to finally relax fully.

* * *

Sari couldn’t remember the last time she had had a nightmare about something that had really happened. She had woken up from night terrors often as a child, paralyzed in her bed with fear and yet without any recollection of what had frightened her so badly - the likely reason for those childhood night terrors lay within the data-stick beneath the main console of the Razor Crest - and even now, she had the occasional strange, uncomfortable dreams like spiders chasing her across icy landscapes that seemed to stretch on forever, or falling through an endless void.

Waking up from a nightmare inspired by a real memory in a cold sweat with a scream half-formed in her throat, however, was new to her.

“Din!” she gasped, clutching instinctively at the fabric of his shirt beneath her as he jolted awake instantly, rolling over to grasp her shoulders tightly.

“Sari?” he demanded, sounding as alert as if he had never been asleep at all. “What is it?” His warm, callused hands slid up to cup her face carefully. “Are you okay?”

“Nightmare,” she managed to get out, her throat painfully tight as she added, “Sorry.”

“You’re apologizing for having a nightmare?” he echoed, bewildered even as the tension drained out of him.

“For waking you up,” she clarified as she pulled away from him again to sit up, dragging a shaking hand over her face and scrubbing her eyes as they stung sharply. “I’m sorry.”

“Never mind that.” He caught her hand, pulling it away from her face as he pushed himself up onto one elbow beside her. She could hardly see anything but the vague shape of his helmet as a dark blob hovering in front of her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She opened her mouth, preparing to decline instinctively, but then stopped herself. “Yeah. Yeah, just...give me a second.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily and she settled back against his side, tucking her head underneath his chin again.

His arms slid around her waist, pulling her in against his solid warmth, and she shut her eyes instinctively, wishing sleep would come back as easily as it had before. Of course, it didn’t; she was unfortunately far too wide awake and positive that Din could feel her trembling as his palm settled against her spine, rubbing slow circles into it.

“Breathe,  mesh’la,” he said quietly and Sari obediently took a deep breath, realizing she hadn’t inhaled in several seconds as her burning lungs thanked her for the oxygen.

“You never came down to the sewers,” she admitted at last. “IG-11 never brought you, and I got lost when I tried to go back. I couldn’t find you.”

Din’s hand stilled on her back. “I’m right here,” he reminded her carefully.

“I know.” She let her fingers tangle loosely in the soft material of his shirt again. “I know you are. But I can’t - don’t make me leave you like that again.”

“I won’t ask you to,” he promised.

“Or tell me to,” she added pointedly.

“Or tell you to,” he agreed, a hint of a smile in his voice. “If it makes you feel better, telling you to leave me was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

“Yeah?” Sari tilted her head back to peer up at Din in the darkness, although it didn’t do any good; she assumed he could see her a little better with his visor’s enhancements, anyway.

“Yeah.” He reached up with his free hand, his fingers carding through her hair and brushing it out of her face for her. “I never wanted to make you cry like that.”

“Tell anybody I cried over you and I’ll kill you myself,” she threatened even as her eyes stung sharply again at the memory of it and she couldn’t stop a sob from tearing its way out of her throat.

“Sari?” Din sounded alarmed as his hands slid back up to cradle her face again, his thumbs swiping over the fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I almost lost you,” she hiccuped.

“I’m right here,” he reassured her again, but he sounded suddenly pensive. “Can you see anything?”

“What?” she sniffled; she couldn’t remember ever sounding so pitiful before.

“Can you see anything?” he repeated. “Right now, in this room.”

“No, it’s pitch-black in here. What are you doing?” she demanded as he lowered his hands, sliding them over her fingers carefully.

“The only rule is that you can’t see my face,” he reminded her.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she let him guide her hands to the edge of his helmet until her fingertips met the cool beskar surface. As she released the catch on his helmet for him, he released her hands to take it from her and set it on the floor beside the bed. She didn’t dare squint and try to make out any of his features in the dark, feeling a twinge of unease on his behalf that he was risking this much as she dropped her gaze to somewhere around his collarbone instead.

“Here,” he said quietly, his unmodulated voice only inches away as he took one of her hands again, guiding it up until she felt thick, soft hair brush against her palm. “This is where I was hurt before IG-11 put bacta spray on it. It’s better now.”

Warily, Sari allowed her fingers to run over the indicated spot on Din’s scalp and he winced suddenly.

“Sorry,” she apologized frantically, pulling her hand back like it had been burned, but he caught it again quickly.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just tender, that’s all. But it’s mostly healed. See?” He tugged her hand back to his head, pressing her palm down more firmly against the spot where he’d been injured.

Once she was convinced that the injury was fully healed, she brushed her fingers through the curls of hair nearby. To her surprise, he let out a soft breath and tilted his head into her palm as she continued to card her fingers through his hair.

“Promise I’m not hurting you?” she confirmed.

“Promise,” he said and after a moment’s hesitation, added tentatively, “It’s...it feels nice.”

She wondered when the last time anyone had touched his hair or his face had been; it had likely been before he had sworn to his Creed, when he had still been a child. With her free hand, she reached up carefully, finding his cheek in the dark as her fingers probed over the patchy stubble growing over his jawline and then up to map the smooth expanse of his forehead.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding both curious and amused.

“Looking respectfully,” she told him, unable to help a smile of her own when he snorted with laughter. She’d only heard that unfiltered sound the last time they had been to Sorgan over a month earlier and the idea that she could make him laugh like that sent a little thrill through her.

She let her fingertips trail down from his forehead delicately over his thick eyebrows and then his closed eyes - brown just like the hair beneath her other hand, she knew - before brushing her fingers over the aquiline curve of his nose and down to the growth of hair over his upper lip. She couldn’t help a brief laugh despite herself and felt Din’s mouth pull into a smile beneath her fingertips.

“Duraani, burc’ya?” he asked, his breath warm against her palm even as he translated, “‘You looking at me funny, pal?’”

“No, it’s just that you weren’t lying about the mustache,” she answered, grinning as she let her hand drift to the corner of his smiling mouth, finding a dimple in his cheek against her thumb and committing it to memory.

“I’ve never lied to you about anything,” he retorted before his smile faded slightly. “Well, there is _one_ thing.”

“What is it?” Sari paused her exploration of his face, frowning instinctively even though she doubted he could see it now that his enhanced night-vision was gone.

“Mesh’la doesn’t mean ‘loth-cat,’” he confessed.

“See, you could’ve just admitted you’ve been insulting me sooner and this whole thing could’ve been avoided,” she teased, but then his smile vanished entirely beneath her fingertips. She reached up instinctively, feeling for his eyebrows and finding them knitted together in a deep frown. “What’s wrong?” she asked, bewildered.

“You always think I’m insulting you,” he pointed out. “Did it never occur to you that I might have been calling you beautiful?”

She stared blankly at where she imagined his eyes were as her hand fell back to his jaw instinctively. “You - what?”

“That’s what it means.” He turned his head into her touch and she could feel his lips brushing over her palm. Her heart leapt into her throat at the silken touch of his mouth against her skin. “Mesh’la is Mando’a for ‘beautiful.’”

“You’ve been flirting with me,” she accused, flustered. “Ever since that first night in my village, you’ve been _flirting_.”

“I have,” he confirmed, not even sounding at all sorry about it; he could have at least pretended to be as embarrassed as she currently felt.

“What else have you been saying without my knowledge?” she demanded. “Because that’s _not_ the only thing you haven’t translated properly for me.”

“The word that sounds like your name - cyar’ika \- means darling, or sweetheart. It’s fitting for you.” He pressed another kiss against her palm, this time firmly enough that she was sure he had meant to. “Vercopa par vencuyot ti gar \- I wish for a future with you.” Another kiss to her palm. “Gar’ner \- you’re mine.” Her heart pounded in her throat as he tilted his head up to press his lips against her fingertips, one at a time. “Ni be’gar, baar bal runi \- I’m yours, body and soul.”

“Din-” Sari’s voice cracked on his name and she was left unable to finish protesting that she had done nothing to deserve to call him hers.

“And this-” Din reached up suddenly, his hand curling around the back of her neck and gently tugging her closer. Out of habit alone, she braced herself for the usual smooth surface of beskar steel, but was pleasantly surprised by the warm skin of his forehead pressing against hers instead. “This is called a mirshmure’cya, or the Keldabe kiss. It’s how Mandalorians show affection when they can’t remove their helmets in public.”

“You’ve been kissing me? All those times you pressed our foreheads together?” Sari’s throat felt so dry that she could barely get the words out.

“I have.” She could hear Din’s throat working around his next words with how close he was. “Is...is that okay?”

“There’s one more thing you haven’t translated,” she reminded him, not daring to answer his question just yet. “What you said last night at the campsite, before we reached town.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he repeated the phrase. “It means-”

“I love you,” she blurted out, too impatient to wait for him to translate.

“Well, it literally translates to ‘I hold you in my heart eternally,’ but-”

“No,” she interrupted him. “I’m saying it. To you. I love you.”

“Oh. Me, too. For you.”

Sari didn’t know which one of them went in for a kiss first, but either way, they missed each other’s mouths in the dark and she found his cheek just as his lips pressed clumsily against her jaw. She huffed a breathless laugh against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss there and savoring the rasp of his stubble against her lips for a moment before pulling back just enough to nudge his chin up and slot their mouths together properly.

Of all the things Sari had imagined, kissing the Mandalorian had never even occurred to her as a possibility until it was already happening, his hands finding her waist as hers tangled loosely in his hair. Sure, she had imagined plenty else, especially during the nights when they had had only a makeshift curtain keeping her from rolling over and straddling his hips, but she had resisted the urge to act on the impulse because of both the risk of seeing his face and her own selfish fear of rejection.

In the darkness of the sleeping berth and with the obvious consent of Din’s mouth sliding languidly against hers, though, she dared to hook one leg around his waist, dragging him closer, and he hummed contentedly into the kiss. The sound sent a shock of want straight down to her core.

“Gar’ner,” she murmured against his lips and his fingers tightened on her hips to the point where they would likely leave bruises.

“Ni be’gar,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to peck the corner of her mouth before tilting his head to brush feather-light kisses over her chin and down to her neck. “I like when you speak in Mando’a,” he added against her skin, “Suits you.”

“You should teach me more phrases, then.” She shivered as he kissed a spot on her neck just below her pulse point and he took an extra moment to graze his teeth tentatively against it, his nose nudging against the underside of her jaw and his mustache tickling her sensitive skin. “ _Fuck_.” Her fingers tightened in his hair and he let out a soft exhale of laughter against her neck that sent a wave of goosebumps along her arms.

“Good?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathed, “Don’t stop.”

To her dismay, he pulled back again, but then he was sliding up and kissing her again far more firmly, deepening it in a way that made her toes curl before pulling away to kiss the tip of her nose delicately as she caught her breath, dazed.

“Sure you’ve never kissed anybody before?” she accused, but there was no heat behind it even as she smiled broadly. “Because you’re incredibly good at it.”

“I learn fast.” Din ducked his head to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat as she let her head fall back against the pillow. “I wasn’t asleep when you and Soren were talking,” he admitted.

“You weren’t?” Sari wanted to be upset and demand what he had overheard, but it was hard to keep her train of thought on track when he continued to pepper her collarbone with soft kisses.

“You told him I only wanted you around because of Grogu.” He brushed another kiss against the crook of her neck. “Do you still believe that?”

“No,” she allowed, her fingers carding absently through his hair. “Not anymore.”

She couldn’t possibly justify everything he had done over the past several weeks - calling her beautiful without her knowledge, giving her Keldabe kisses that only he had known the significance of, and saying ridiculously-sweet phrases in Mando’a without translating specifically so that she wouldn’t realize he was flirting with her - as just him keeping her around for Grogu’s sake.

“Good.” Din tilted his head back up and Sari met him halfway, crushing her mouth against his eagerly and licking her way into his mouth to taste him.

He groaned into the kiss as she hauled him closer by the collar of his shirt, his hands sliding down to grasp the hem of her shirt in return and pull it up, but a shrill, familiar wail cut through the air of the otherwise-silent ship and they were forced to break apart.

Sari pressed her forehead against Din’s in what she now knew was a mirshmure’cya as she caught her breath and felt his own ragged breaths against her lips, keeping her eyes shut - not that it mattered in the darkness of the room, anyway - and letting her fingers tangle loosely in his hair to ground herself back in reality.

“We could let him cry it out,” he suggested wryly as Grogu began to cry in earnest again from the sleeping berth next door and she shook her head, stamping down the instinctive twinge of disappointment even as she brushed her hand through the soft curls of hair at the nape of his neck and memorized the feeling of the strands between her fingers; she didn’t know when she would get to touch his hair again.

“Go grab your helmet and bring our kid in here.”

She could sense more than see his smile in the darkness. “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned down, kissing her one last time firmly before climbing off her and retrieving his helmet from the floor.

She could hear the quiet hiss of the helmet slipping back into place as Din opened the sleeping berth door, the dim lights of the ship glinting off the beskar as he padded across to the other sleeping berth.

“It’s alright, ad’ika, I’ve got you,” he murmured, scooping the whimpering Grogu up and bringing him back to the sleeping berth where Sari waited for them. He carried the child over to the bed and settled beside Sari on the mattress, his free arm winding around her waist to pull her into his side.

“Hey, bud,” she crooned fondly when Grogu peeked up at her, his dark eyes large and damp with tears. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Nothing to cry about.”

She tilted her head up to brush a kiss against the underside of Din’s jaw - the only part of his face she could reach underneath the helmet - before ducking her head to press a kiss against the top of Grogu’s head as well. He seemed calmer already now that he was curled between both of them, yawning squeakily as he rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists.

“Can you find out what’s wrong with him?” Din asked and Sari pressed the question carefully at Grogu.

The child’s face scrunched in concentration briefly as he pushed back an image of her own face, tear-stained and frightened above him as they had made their way through the sewer tunnels underneath Nevarro.

“He had a nightmare, too,” she translated for Din’s sake, feeling a twinge of guilt for worrying Grogu so much as she nudged a silent apology towards him. He cooed back at her and reached up to pat her cheek clumsily in sleepy forgiveness. “But he’s okay now that he’s with us.”

“And you?” She felt Din’s fingers slide up to smooth her hair down, carding through the loose curls slowly.

“More than okay,” she reassured him and he let out a quiet breath of relief, pressing his chin against the top of her head.

“Good. Think you can try getting some more sleep for me?”

“Mhm. If you sleep, too.” She pressed a kiss against the crook of his neck impulsively. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” she added in Mando’a just because she could now.

She knew what Din’s smile felt like beneath her fingers and against her lips now, but nothing compared to hearing it in his rough, unfiltered voice - like wrapping a warm blanket around her shoulders, like finding the right box for a misplaced puzzle piece, like coming home at long, _long_ last - as he answered in Basic without hesitation, “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Dini'la: insane  
> Mesh'la: beautiful  
> Mirshmure'cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Ad'ika: little one; child  
> Kute: underclothes; bodysuit worn underneath armor  
> Cyar’ika: darling; sweetheart  
> Duraani, burc'ya?: You looking at me funny, pal?  
> Vercopa par vencuyot ti gar: I wish for a future with you  
> Gar’ner: you are mine  
> Ni be’gar, baar bal runi: I am yours, body and soul  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum: I love you; literally 'I hold you in my heart eternally'  
> Ni be’gar: I am yours
> 
> IT FINALLY HAPPENED HOLY SHIT THIS IS NOT A DRILL (can we appreciate that it happened on a nice multiple-of-10 chapter too because I swear that wasn't planned and I'm so pleased lol)
> 
> Also, this is totally going to be the point where I trade yearning for spicy scenes because these two have yearned long enough lol. I've decided btw that I'm not going to write any spicy outtakes only because I'm not all that comfortable writing smut, but I'll heavily imply it in this story going forward.
> 
> This is also not the only bits of Sari's file you guys will see, there will be more as we go through Season 2 and Sari and Din either reference her file or she goes back and re-reads stuff, so don't worry!
> 
> So from here, just FYI, we're going on a little side mission before the events of Season 2 starting with a few days to recover in Sorgan before they head out to worlds unknown. ;) And also from here on out, if Sari says a word in Mando'a I haven't covered already, just assume that Din taught it to her between chapters or off-screen lol.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, because it was a LONG time coming!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari finally musters up the courage to read her own file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before we get into this chapter, I need your help drafting something, y'all. Sari's getting a lightsaber eventually near the end of this fic, it's decided (whether she'll actively use it or not is a different story lol). The issue is now deciding what color the kyber crystal inside is going to be, so I've created [a poll on Google Forms](https://forms.gle/6YXS82xpv2VavBpG6) to see what everyone thinks. Please take a second and vote what you think the color ought to be!
> 
> I've added the options I'm considering right now and what I think each color means in general and to Sari specifically, but feel free to suggest any other colors (other than orange, which - if my research is right - indicates a high power-level when it comes to the Force and Sari is not going to be powerful except in very specific scenarios 👀) and let me know why. I'll leave the poll open basically until we reach the chapter in which Sari gets her lightsaber, so you guys will have plenty of time to vote.
> 
> Thanks in advance for your help and enjoy the chapter!

The brush of lips against the back of Sari’s shoulder pulled her out of the most restful sleep she had had in a long time and she instinctively nestled into the warm torso pressed against her back.

“Sari.” Another kiss pressed against the nape of her neck, warm and open-mouthed this time, and she shivered slightly. “Cyare.” Rough, callused fingers drifted over her bare hip beneath the blanket covering them, tracing lazy patterns into it. “Sarika.” Teeth grazed over her pulse point from behind. “Cyar’ika.”

“Are you just doing that because those words kind of rhyme with my name?” she mumbled around a yawn and felt Din muffle a quiet chuckle into her neck.

“Maybe.” His voice was husky and rough with sleep; he clearly hadn’t been awake all that long himself.

“I’m not putting up with your terrible attempts at poetry this early in the day,” she threatened lightly, keeping her eyes tightly shut as she rolled over to try and blindly find his lips with her own. Given the amount of practice she had gotten the previous night, she caught his mouth on the first try, kissing him with a smile and ignoring the sweet-sour morning breath lingering on his tongue. “Morning, Din.”

“Good morning.” He tilted his head up briefly to peck the tip of her nose. “Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday,” she corrected him, just barely remembering not to open her eyes in her confusion.

In the barn of her home village on Sorgan, daylight filtered in even through the closed blinds of the window and illuminated the room practically as soon as the sun rose. The brightness of the room made it far too easy for Sari to potentially catch a glimpse of Din’s face unless she slept with her back to his front, as they had discovered the previous day when they had first arrived and settled in for their week-long respite before preparing to begin the search for Grogu’s people.

“It is, actually. You’re thirty-seven today, and you would have known that if you’d read your file,” he reminded her dryly and she wrinkled her nose in silent protest.

She had been putting off reading her file ever since they had landed on Sorgan, hesitant to open that can of worms after seeing how badly the contents of her file had shaken Din. He had adamantly refused to tell her anything about what he’d read, insisting that she needed to read it for herself if she wanted to know what it contained, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know at all anymore.

“Well, that’s just unfair,” she pointed out to distract herself from that particular train of thought even as she felt him press another kiss against her wrinkled nose, smiling despite herself at the fond gesture. “I don’t know _your_ birthday.”

“The same day four months from now. There’s time,” he reassured her and she silently filed the information away. “Are you memorizing it?” he accused, but she couldn’t miss the smile in his voice.

“How’d you know?” she asked, startled.

“This.” He brushed his lips over the small furrow that had formed between her eyebrows. “You frown a little when you commit something to memory. Like when I teach you new words in Mando’a. It’s very endearing - copyc,” he added. Now that he had committed to teaching her the language, he used every opportunity to impress a new word or phrase onto her. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, ducking his head to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

“I did.” She pressed a kiss against the top of his head in return, smiling into his hair. “You?”

He hummed a confirmation into her collarbone, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down her spine as his fingers traced over the bumpy, raised skin on her hip that made up the ugly hypertrophic scar caused by the laser blast that had grazed her during their initial escape from Nevarro.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like the kid being too far away, but I’m glad he stayed at your sister’s place last night,” he murmured against her skin.

Sari flushed slightly, positive he could feel the rush of heat underneath her skin as she brushed her fingers against a long scar on his left shoulder blade that she had discovered the previous night; he had told her it had been caused by a vibro-axe grazing his back during a fight years earlier.

“Yeah, me, too,” she admitted.

“You live up to the word mesh’la when you blush,” he informed her as he brushed a kiss against the underside of her jaw.

“I wouldn’t be so cute if I resembled a tomato, which is what’ll happen if you keep saying things like that,” she threatened half-heartedly and was rewarded with a soft chuckle that felt like warm honey sliding down her spine as he lifted his head from underneath her chin.

“I think you could pull it off.” His mouth slotted over hers again and she slid her hand up to tangle her fingers in the soft curls of hair at the back of his head, holding him close for a long moment and savoring the kiss before letting go reluctantly to catch her breath. “As much as I’d love to kiss every inch of you all over again, we should probably get Grogu back,” he admitted. She noted with satisfaction that he sounded as breathless and dazed with desire as she felt.

“We should,” she agreed, but made no move to get up even as he pressed one last kiss against her forehead and climbed off her to fetch his discarded clothes and helmet from the floor by the bed. “Alright, it’s safe to look,” he reassured her as she heard the soft hiss of his helmet sliding into place and the sound of the makeshift curtain that shielded their bed from the rest of the barn being pushed slightly aside.

Sari opened her eyes and squinted against the bright sunlight filtering into the room, pushing herself upright and accepting the bundle of her own clothes that Din passed to her as her eyes adjusted to the influx of light. To her slight disappointment, he was already fully dressed, only the golden skin of his hands briefly visible before he tugged his leather gloves on and climbed off the bed to retrieve and put on the rest of his armor.

“What are you staring at?” he asked without turning around as he attached each piece of beskar methodically; he had probably felt her eyes on his back.

“Am I not allowed to look even when the helmet’s on now?” she teased as she slid her cloth chest-wrap on, binding it tightly before pulling her underwear and pants on and then her shirt.

It was a loose, flowing tunic - the kind Sari tended to prefer wearing when she was in her home village without any people to fight or bounties to hunt - and it had been the first thing Din had peeled off her and tossed to the floor the moment they had been alone in the barn the previous night. She had to stamp down the instinctive shiver that accompanied the memory.

“You are,” he conceded and she glanced up to find him watching her intently as she dressed, his visor giving away nothing of the expression underneath.

She wondered if he smiled under the helmet as often as he seemed to without it, pressing them constantly against her mouth or her bare skin between actual kisses, or whether the layers of beskar changed him entirely once they were on.

“Now who’s staring?” she pointed out wryly as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and climbed to her feet.

“Am I not allowed to admire the most beautiful woman in the galaxy?” he retorted and she flushed bright red, mortified. “Told you you could pull off looking like a tomato,” he added dryly and she crossed the distance between them, pinching his side between the plates of armor in retaliation before ducking her head underneath his helmet to kiss the barely visible edge of his jaw.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” he agreed solemnly, but she could hear him smiling underneath his visor; the beskar hadn’t changed him one bit.

* * *

“Boo-ee,” Grogu greeted Sari cheerfully from where he sat between Winta’s legs in front of Omera’s and her small house, the girl feeding him tiny chunks of bread between bites of her own breakfast.

“Buir,” Sari corrected with a faint smile as she took a seat beside them, dropping a kiss onto each of the children’s heads. “Morning, Winta,” she added to her niece.

“Hi, Aunt Sari.” Winta gave her a bright smile in return before passing her an orange. “Happy birthday.”

“How’d you know today was my birthday?” Sari asked, nearly dropping the fruit in surprise.

“Mando told me and Mama yesterday,” the girl answered brightly. “He’s not allowed to eat me, by the way, I’ve been really good while you were gone. Where is he?”

“I’ll make sure he knows,” Sari agreed, shaking her head fondly as she peeled her orange and popped a slice into her mouth. “He’s eating breakfast back at the barn, you know he doesn’t eat with everybody else.”

“Oh, yeah, the helmet.” Winta wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. “But then how do you two kiss?”

Sari nearly choked on her orange slice. “Pardon?”

“Like Caben and Mama do,” Winta said easily, as if the lack of clarification was why Sari had been taken aback. “How do you and Mando kiss?”

“We don’t,” Sari lied, trying desperately not to think about how they very much had done exactly that over and over until her lips had ached from the bruising kisses Din had pressed against them.

“Aunt Sari, I’m six, not dumb,” Winta reminded her with a pointed eye-roll. “You smile at him all the time, and he keeps peeking at you when you’re not looking.”

“He does?” Sari asked, startled by the revelation.

“Mhm.” Winta nudged another chunk of bread into Grogu’s waiting mouth and the tiny green child cooed happily as he chewed on his food. “I asked him why last night and he told me that he couldn’t help it ‘cause you were just so pretty. And I told him I knew that already ‘cause you’re the prettiest aunt ever.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, thank you.” Sari ruffled Winta’s curly hair affectionately before tossing her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “You’re the prettiest niece ever.” Grogu chirped indignantly and Sari chuckled, brushing her finger over his head next. “And _you’re_ the prettiest green alien baby ever,” she added to appease him and he preened under her attention. “Did you two have a good sleepover last night?” she asked Winta.

“Uh-huh. Grogu tried to eat a frog outside my window,” Winta informed her, “But I told him ‘no’ and he dropped it.”

“Good job, bud,” Sari said warmly to Grogu, whose ears twitched as he smiled broadly at the praise.

“Happy birthday, Sari,” Omera greeted her as she came out of the house, dropping a kiss on top of Sari’s head before coming around to sit on Winta’s other side.

“Thanks,” Sari said wryly. “So Mando snitched, huh?”

“Don’t be angry with him,” Omera scolded mildly, “He thought we should at least know and I told him that you don’t like making a big deal out of it, anyway. Just be glad we had the right age for you all this time.”

Sari couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, small favors. I’m already having an existential crisis as it is over the wrong-birthday thing. Thought I was two months younger than I actually was all this time.”

Omera didn’t smile, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “He didn’t tell me much about your file when I asked - he wanted you to read it first - but he did say that it had some pretty awful things in it,” she admitted.

“What file?” Winta asked curiously.

“One that’s not for children to read,” Sari told her firmly and she deflated, disappointed.

“Winta, go put your plate in the kitchen and wash up, please,” Omera suggested and Winta reluctantly climbed to her feet, heading into the house. “ _Have_ you read it yet?” Omera pressed once her daughter was out of earshot.

“Not yet, no. The data-stick is still sitting with the rest of our things in the barn,” Sari admitted as she settled Grogu in her lap and fed him the last slice of her orange. The child gurgled with delight as he chewed on the fruit eagerly. “I’ll read it today while Mando’s working on making repairs to the ship. Would-?” She swallowed, not sure if it was too much to ask Omera to stay with her while she read it, but Omera was already nodding.

“Of course I will. I won’t read it myself if you don’t want me to, but I’ll sit with you. I’ll leave Winta with Caben while he’s out by the krill ponds so she won’t ask too many questions.”

Sari let out a relieved breath, leaning heavily into her adoptive sister’s side. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, you know I’d do anything for you.” Omera slid her arm around Sari’s shoulders, squeezing her close. “I’m glad you’re finally getting answers for what happened to you.”

“I’m just not sure those answers are what I want to hear,” Sari confessed.

“They never are.” Omera ruffled her hair affectionately before letting go. “I know I didn’t press you for details yesterday, but I overheard Winta just now and I have to ask, _is_ there something going on between you and the Mandalorian? The two of you seem awfully close compared to when you were last here.”

Sari turned bright red, which was clearly enough of an answer for Omera as her eyebrows jumped high on her forehead.

“ _Sari_ ,” she said, sounding mock-scandalized even as she smiled broadly with delight. “Are you happy?”

“I am,” Sari confirmed.

“Then that’s all that matters.” Omera ducked her head to press a kiss against the top of her head. “And if you’re ever not, I don’t care how much armor that man wears - I’m killing him for hurting my baby sister.”

Sari couldn’t help but laugh. “Please don’t, but thanks for offering.” Grogu gurgled anxiously up at her and she quickly reassured him, “No, no, she’s only joking, bud. No one’s getting killed.” At Omera’s raised eyebrow, she clarified, “Grogu’s scared you’re actually going to hurt Mando.”

“Oh.” Omera glanced down at the child, who was now watching her with large, worried eyes. “No, sweetheart, I won’t hurt anyone,” she crooned fondly and he visibly relaxed against Sari, going back to gnawing at the pulp of his orange slice. “I didn’t know you could understand him,” Omera added curiously and Sari grimaced.

“Yeah, that’s been kind of a thing for some time now. I have a feeling an explanation for it will be in my file, too.” She hesitated. “Do you remember me doing anything like that when we were kids? Pushing thoughts at you or our parents?”

Omera frowned thoughtfully. “Our mother used to say she could often guess what you needed before you started picking up signs, but I’d always chalked that up to her instincts.”

“Maybe that’s all it was,” Sari conceded, “But I just don’t know anymore. Sometimes I think I’m normal and this is all in my head, and sometimes I feel like I’m a lot like him.” She nodded to Grogu, who had resorted to licking the orange juice off his sticky fingers with relish. “Mando seems to think so, anyway. I’m pretty sure I scare him sometimes.”

“He seems like he’s the kind of person who likes things he can explain,” Omera reasoned. “A lot of people do. That doesn’t mean _you_ scare him. He wouldn’t be here if you did.”

“If you say so.” Sari didn’t feel all that convinced, but was distracted when she saw a familiar glint of beskar in the distance as Din stepped out of the barn, his visor turning in her direction. “I’m gonna let Mando see that Grogu’s doing okay and grab that file.”

“I’ll be here,” Omera agreed. “Come back when you’re ready.”

“I will.” Sari slid one arm around Omera to squeeze her in a brief, grateful hug before climbing to her feet and settling Grogu on her hip before making her way over to the barn where Din waited for them.

“Buir!” Grogu exclaimed, his arms stretching towards Din eagerly.

“Well, at least he actually said it this time,” Sari joked, passing the child over and watching him curl into the Mandalorian’s shoulder readily. Din patted his back carefully, letting him settle between the beskar armor plates like he belonged there.

“Gar serim,” he praised Grogu quietly and Sari recognized the phrase as the same one he had given her the previous day when she had attempted to recite the Resol’nare back to him in Mando’a. “Good job, ad’ika.” Grogu burbled back up at him, clearly proud of himself. “I’m about to head back to the Crest and make those repairs,” he added to Sari over the child’s head. “What’s your plan for today?”

“I’m gonna grab my file and go through it with Omera,” she admitted and Din’s shoulders immediately tensed in response.

“Are you sure?” he asked carefully.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “Just keep Grogu busy for me, I’d rather he not think either of us is in trouble. He’s been awfully clingy ever since, well.” She grimaced, unable to help but recall the image Grogu had pressed into her mind of her own face above him, tear-stained and miserable and frightened in the sewers of Nevarro after leaving Din behind.

“Yeah, I noticed. I’ll take him with me to the ship,” Din agreed, patting Grogu’s back as the child nestled his head against his shoulder. “You’ve got your commlink?”

“I’ll grab it when I go get the file,” she agreed.

“Good. Don’t hesitate to call me back if you need me,” he told her.

“Well, that’s a dangerous offer to make,” she joked, earning a soft, barely-audible chuckle.

“You know what I mean.” He ducked his head down, pressing his helmet against Sari’s forehead in a mirshmure’cya, and she couldn’t help but smile as she leaned into the delicate press of beskar. Now that she knew what it meant, it put how often he had pressed their foreheads together before in a whole new light. “I saw you sitting with Winta earlier from the window. What were you two talking about?” he asked, a smile of his own in his voice.

“She said you told her I was pretty,” she teased back.

“Your niece is a snitch,” he informed her dryly before adding, “And I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He bumped his forehead a little more firmly against hers in another brief Keldabe kiss; she wondered if he would someday get tired of it because she didn’t think she ever would. “See you later, mesh’la.”

“Ret’, Din,” she answered in Mando’a, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Grogu’s head in a silent farewell to the child as well before letting Din pull back and head for the Razor Crest parked at the edge of the forest.

* * *

_Data Log 57: SD-523 is being particularly difficult this week. She refuses meals whenever she is forced to continue her psychic training. Although this is more of a self-inflicted punishment, her mother is beside herself with anxiety over SD-523’s stubbornness and continues to try to cajole her into eating at least a few crusts of bread between her exercises. I have advised her to not bother; if SD-523 remains uncooperative, she will learn her lesson when her starvation becomes more prominent._

“What kind of monster talks about a literal baby like that?” Omera asked in horror as she brushed her fingers through Sari’s hair with one hand, her free hand clutching the datapad she had been reading aloud from. “You were barely more than a year old when this log was written.”

“Apparently, my bio-dad,” Sari answered wearily from where she was sprawled out on the bed with her head pillowed in Omera’s lap, keeping her eyes shut tightly so that tears wouldn’t well up in them. “He really _is_ just the absolute worst, isn’t he?”

“It makes me all the more relieved that you came to live with me and our parents in the end,” Omera agreed, smoothing her fingers through Sari’s hair again. “I can’t imagine what you might have grown up into otherwise.”

Sari swallowed back the rising bile in her throat. “A Stormtrooper, probably,” she pointed out. “That was the endgame, right? A...what did they call it? It’s somewhere near the top of the file.”

“Force-sensitive Stormtrooper,” Omera supplied once she scrolled back up to check. “I don’t really know what that means, but it sounds like that’s what you and Grogu are - Force-sensitive.”

“How did they do that, anyway? Make me like Grogu?” Sari pushed herself up onto one elbow.

“From what I can see, it looks like they found someone else who was Force-sensitive and injected their blood into you when you were born,” Omera noted, pointing out the first data log. “Here.”

_Data Log 1: SD-523 was born at 11:11 PM and was immediately placed into Imperial custody. Both the child and her mother, Asha Amin, are healthy despite initial concerns following complications during early labor. Transfusions of the donor’s blood following the post-birth clean-up process have been met with positive results so far as SD-523’s M-count ticks higher by the hour. Standing by to determine if the subject will survive her first week of life or if she will reject the transfusion as the others did._

_Addendum: Asha insists on naming SD-523 “Sarika,” despite my cautions not to get attached to a child that likely will not survive the process like the subjects before her. I have added the name as an alias to appease her; we will need her cooperation to continue experimentation on her daughter._

“He really was just willing to let his own kid die if the experiment didn’t work,” Sari realized as her vision blurred, blinking hard to dismiss the tears before they could form. “That log says there were others before me. How many?”

“From this initial description here, dozens,” Omera answered, her eyes scanning the passage. “Not all of them were children, but some were. You were the only one to survive the blood transfusions.”

“The _only_ one?” Sari’s throat felt dry and painful as she reached for the cup of water on the bedside table to down it. “That can’t be right,” she protested after she swallowed the water inside and regained control over her voice. “There _has_ to be at least a few others.”

Omera shook her head, looking about as nauseated as Sari herself felt. “No. You’re the only one, Sari. Somehow, you survived.”

“Why me?” Sari buried her head into her hands. “Out of dozens of people, why was _I_ the only one to survive?”

“I don’t know,” Omera admitted and when Sari looked up again, her sister’s dark brown eyes were fixed on her worriedly. “But I know you,” she pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet that you’re thinking one of them deserved to live instead.”

“That’s not-” Sari stopped herself when Omera narrowed her eyes in a silent warning not to lie to her. “Maybe,” she conceded. “I don’t know. Just...it doesn’t feel right, that I’m here and they’re not.”

“That’s called survivor’s guilt,” Omera pointed out grimly. “Don’t go down that path, it’s not good for you. Do you think the Mandalorian would agree? That one of the other test subjects deserved to live more than you?”

Sari instinctively felt for Din’s necklace underneath her shirt and pulled it out to examine the beskar Mythosaur pendant for a long moment. “No,” she admitted at last as she tucked the necklace away again. “But he’s biased. You both are.”

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Omera nudged Sari’s chin up to force her to meet her eyes. “You deserve to be here just as much as any of them. You do. Whether you believe it or not, that’s the truth.”

“I feel like I’ve been wasting my life,” Sari confessed. “Like I should’ve been doing so much more with it for all those people who never got a chance to.”

“You can’t live dozens of lives for them, Sari,” Omera reminded her, smoothing a few curls of hair back behind her ear. It was a gesture Sari knew she had inherited from her own mother - Sari’s adoptive mother - and the fond memories associated with it flooded her with bittersweet nostalgia. “All you can do is keep yourself safe and live the best life you can.”

Sari swallowed around the lump in her throat, blinking back the sharp sting in her eyes again. “Show me that video of my mom again?” she requested. “That one from early on.”

Omera tilted the datapad towards her so that she could see it, pressing the video in question, and they both watched as Asha Amin pressed her hand against the surface of a bacta tank, where a tiny infant, barely a few months old, floated unconsciously with tubes and wires connected to her.

It was like looking at a mirror, Sari mused as she stared at her mother’s image on the datapad; the only difference between them was Asha’s eyes, dark brown instead of the vivid hazel Sari saw in her own reflection.

“Sweet dreams, my starlight,” she murmured to the oblivious infant in the bacta tank before she began to sing, the lyrics hauntingly soft and the melody so familiar that it made Sari’s heart ache again sharply as she committed the words to memory along with her mother’s name and face. She knew that lullaby far too well; Din had settled Grogu with it only a handful of days earlier.

“That might be the only thing I want to remember from back then,” she admitted as the video ended. “Her singing to me. She may have been Imperial like my dad, but she loved me, I know that much.”

“I’m glad there was at least one good memory from those years.” Omera pressed a brief kiss into her hair.

“I’ve got a lot more of them from growing up with you and our parents,” Sari reassured her. “You three made me the person I am today.”

Omera smiled faintly. “Then I guess we did something right.” She ruffled Sari’s hair affectionately. “Want to keep going?”

Sari sighed wearily. “No, but we probably should, anyway.”

“Alright.” Omera turned the datapad back towards herself and Sari settled back down to rest her head against her sister’s knee and listen to her read out loud once more.

* * *

“Okay, I know I used to be able to pick things up with my mind like you can, I’ve seen video proof of it,” Sari told Grogu wryly, “I have no idea _how_ I did it, but I could. How do _you_ do it?”

Grogu glanced at the shift knob settled on the floor of the Razor Crest between them and then up at her before shrugging his tiny shoulders. “Eh.”

“‘Trust the Force?’ Thanks, bud, that’s very helpful advice,” she said dryly and he blew a raspberry back at her.

“Serves you right for taking lessons from an actual child,” Din’s unmodulated voice called from the bridge, where he had taken the sandwiches and thermos of soup Sari had brought to the ship for him since he had missed lunch while working on ship repairs.

“Shut up and eat your sandwich, Djarin,” she retorted, earning a startled, low chuckle as her partner obediently went back to his meal; he probably still wasn’t entirely used to hearing his own name so often.

The shift knob floated into her view and fell abruptly onto her knee, making her jump with surprise, and Grogu giggled at the startled expression she probably wore on her face, opening his eyes from where he’d scrunched them shut in concentration.

“Very funny,” she told the child, rolling her eyes fondly before passing the shift knob physically back to him. “I don’t even know what the Force _is_ , how do you expect me to trust it?”

Grogu wrinkled his tiny nose thoughtfully as he abandoned the shift knob before crawling over to her, settling in front of her and pressing his hand to her wrist. She allowed him to push the image into her mind of her sitting cross-legged as she was now, her eyes shut in concentration as she focused.

“You want me to try meditating?” she guessed and Grogu chirped an affirmation. “Well, I’ll give it a shot.” She shuffled back against the wall of the main corridor so that she was out of Din’s way if he came back down from the bridge before shutting her eyes and concentrating on clearing her head.

For a long while, the only things she could focus on were the quiet noises of Din shuffling around in the bridge and Grogu burbling to himself as he took up the shift knob again and rolled it around in his hands, but slowly, the sounds faded into the background and she risked opening her eyes, only to find that she was no longer sitting in the Razor Crest. There was nothing but black emptiness surrounding her.

“Hello?” she called warily as she climbed to her feet. “Is...is this ‘trusting the Force?’”

No answer came.

“What even _is_ the Force?” she demanded and the void around her remained stubbornly silent. “Look, I want to trust this whole process, I do, but everything about it is crazy.” She threw her hands up before letting them drop again to her sides.

_Canto Bight._

“What?” she asked, startled.

There had been no person speaking or even a disembodied voice, but somehow, she had distinctly heard the words “Canto Bight.” It sounded oddly like how it did whenever Grogu pushed words into her head rather than just images.

“Canto Bight?” she echoed slowly, half to herself.

“What about Canto Bight?” She blinked and she was back in the Razor Crest, Din kneeling in front of her with his hands braced on her shoulders. His visor was fixed on her face and she could feel the concern radiating from him. “I called your name twice and you didn’t answer, you had me worried,” he admitted, “Are you with me?”

“I’m with you,” she confirmed, still a little dazed. “I think we need to go to Canto Bight next.”

“Why?” he asked, bewildered.

“The Force said so?” She shrugged helplessly. “Don’t ask me how any of this stuff works, you’d get about the same result asking Grogu to explain it.” They both glanced at the child sitting a few feet away simultaneously and he blinked before sticking his tongue out at them.

“Bleh.”

“Fair enough,” Din conceded, turning back to Sari. “But you’re going to need to give me a better reason than just ‘the Force said so.’ Do you know a specific place we should go to in Canto Bight? If it’s a lead to Grogu’s people? Anything?”

She shook her head. “No, but I _do_ have a couple of contacts from when I used to work out of the Guild base there. I can put some lines out, see what they get back to me with.”

“Is it safe to mention anything about him to them?” Din glanced back at Grogu as the child wobbled his way over, settling between them on the floor and gurgling happily.

“Should be safe enough. Not that I plan to mention Grogu to them just yet, though,” Sari reasoned, brushing her finger over one of Grogu’s ears and watching it twitch towards her touch. “But if anyone’s heard any talk of Jedi being thrown around, they would know.”

She didn’t add that she would ask about any signs of Mandalorians as well; she knew Din had taken the loss of the covert on Nevarro hard and didn’t want to get his hopes up about finding any surviving Mandalorians from his tribe until they actually found some proof.

“As long as you’re sure.” He leaned in to press his forehead against hers in a mirshmure’cya. “Are you really okay after reading your file? I know it was a lot to take in.”

“I’m okay,” she reassured him. “Knowing that you’d already read through it helped.”

“How so?” he asked curiously.

“Well, the fact that you’re still keeping me around after reading it meant that it couldn’t’ve been _that_ bad,” she pointed out wryly.

“How many times do I have to tell you that nothing’s going to scare me away from you?” he sighed heavily and the fond exasperation in his voice made her heart leap into her throat even as he held his arms out for her. “My love isn’t that fragile, mesh’la. Come here.”

Blinking back the sudden, sharp sting of tears in her eyes, Sari carefully scooped Grogu up off the floor before shuffling forward until Din could slide his arms around both of them. For what felt like an eternity, they all sat on the floor of the Razor Crest together in quiet contentment - a clan of three foundlings that had somehow come together against all odds.

“For the record, though, it really _was_ that bad,” Din added wryly at last, breaking their comfortable silence.

“I don’t know, there were a few gems in there,” Sari pointed out, nestling her head beneath his chin. “I especially liked that one video clip of me throwing a block at the camera out of spite.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, pressing his visor against the top of her head. “Okay, yeah, that was a good one,” he agreed.

Neither of them added that her two-year-old self’s vengeful act had immediately been punished by a particularly-strong electric shock delivered by the metal collar around her neck that had actually rendered her unconscious, and Sari was glad that it was left unsaid. Not everything in her file was meant to dwell at the forefront of her mind, and she would be relieved if most of it never saw the light of day again.

“Shut your eyes?” Din requested. Sari obediently closed her eyes and also covered Grogu’s eyes instinctively as Din lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to get back to the repairs. They should be done soon.”

“Alright,” she agreed, keeping her eyes closed as she tilted her head up to peck his lips briefly in return; she was never quite able to get enough of kissing him now that she knew she was allowed to. “I’ll hop on the comms and send those messages out to my contacts in Canto Bight.”

She waited for the tell-tale hiss-and-click of his helmet sliding back into place before risking opening her eyes again and lowering her hand from Grogu’s eyes as the child scrabbled at the back of her hand with his tiny nails, whining in protest.

“Stop that,” Din scolded the child, scooping him out of Sari’s arms. “I’ve explained this to you already,” he added as he lifted Grogu to his visor’s eye level. “You can’t see me without my helmet and Sari’s just trying to help with that, so don’t scratch her. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, I know you can understand us.”

Grogu blew a raspberry at him sullenly and Sari couldn’t help a laugh at the thought the child pressed into her head next.

“He does understand, he just ignores us because we’re no fun,” she translated for Din’s sake, grinning. “I’m gonna head up now. Love you both.”

She first pressed a kiss against the top of Grogu’s head and then the underside of Din’s jaw before reluctantly untangling herself from her boys and climbing to her feet to head for the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Cyare: beloved  
> Cyar'ika: darling; sweetheart  
> Copyc: generally appealing; attractive (I thought about using the word "copikla" instead, which means charming or cute, but the Mando'a dictionary says explicitly that "copikla" is meant mainly for babies or animals and using it on women means certain death lol)  
> Mesh'la: beautiful  
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Gar serim: you're right; that's it  
> Resol'nare: Six Actions, the tenets of Mandalorian life  
> Ad'ika: little one; child  
> Mirshmure'cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Ret': bye; see you (casual goodbye)
> 
> Damn, these two really couldn't wait to get spicy, huh? lol this entire first scene was just me making it up to myself for Grogu interrupting them in the last chapter tbh.
> 
> Also, I promise Din isn't going to remain this much of a lovesick sap forever, he's still the grump we've always known (just a little softer more often now that he's got someone to be soft with other than Grogu lol). I was hyper-aware of how much of a dork he was in this chapter and definitely tried to tone it down in the next few chapters to make up for it while they're on their side-quest before the events of Season 2 begin.
> 
> My personal favorite part of this chapter is definitely Sarika "iS tHiS tRuStInG ThE fOrCe" Amin, though - as if we needed more of a reason to ship her with Din "dOeS tHiS LoOk jEdI tO YoU" Djarin lmao I love these two dumbasses
> 
> Once again, if everybody could please take a second and [vote on lightsaber colors](https://forms.gle/6YXS82xpv2VavBpG6), I'd really appreciate all the suggestions you guys can give, based on your interpretation of Sari's character so far and - I guarantee - your superior Star Wars knowledge to my own!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari's actions in her early years as a bounty hunter come back to haunt her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Potential content warning: mentions of dubcon and mild sexual harassment**
> 
> So, uh, this is my first time writing this kind of plot line (as short as it is), if it's not obvious with how careful I tried to be while writing it so that no warnings were necessary, but if after you guys are through with the chapter and feel there are any more content warnings this chapter needs, please let me know and I can always modify the warning above.
> 
> Thank you so much in advance!

_“Sari, it’s so good to hear from you! I got your comm about any info floating around about Mandalorians or Jedi and I just wanted to let you know that I might have heard something about the former. If you’re looking for some extra work, there’s a bounty puck in it for you, too. The spice smuggler who’s been bragging about having the info you want has a pretty high price on his head. I’ll keep an eye out for you if you’re planning on stopping by.”_

Sari leaned back in the co-pilot’s seat of the Razor Crest two days after her thirty-seventh birthday, unable to help but feel a twinge of relief; Lyra Vonn - the Zabrak woman she had lived with during her intermittent stays on Canto Bight - had connections nearly everywhere within the city, being a Guild agent herself. If she had heard something about a Mandalorian floating around, then there was no doubt she was telling the truth.

“Hey, you there?” she said into the commlink attached to her collar. “I got a reply from one of my contacts in Canto Bight.”

“What is it?” Din asked, sounding distracted, and Sari could hear the faint, rapid footsteps and delighted screeches of children running around him.

“Well, before I get into that, why are you surrounded by screaming children?” she demanded, bewildered.

“They’re playing Rebels versus Imps,” he informed her dryly. “You shouldn’t have told them the story of what happened on Nevarro, it inspired them too much.”

“Relax, I made sure all of it was kid-friendly,” she reassured him.

“Pew, pew! Take that, Stormtrooper!” Winta shouted from somewhere nearby.

“Oh, no, you got me,” Din deadpanned and Sari couldn’t help a snort of amusement.

“Are you a Stormtrooper in this scenario?”

“I’m the only one here with a helmet,” he admitted, “And none of the kids wanted to be Stormtroopers.”

“I kinda wish I wasn’t missing this,” she teased. “Where’s Grogu?”

“He’s refereeing from the sidelines,” Din answered seriously.

“And doing a great job!” Winta added loudly enough for Sari to hear. “Hi, Aunt Sari!”

“Hi, Winta,” Sari said, barely able to stifle her laughter. “Is it okay if I steal Mando away from the game for a few minutes?”

“I _guess_ ,” Winta allowed, although she sounded reluctant.

“I’ll be back,” Din promised the child before Sari heard him retreat a few steps. “What did your contact say?” he asked, the distraction in his voice entirely gone now.

“She says she knows a spice smuggler who’s been bragging about hearing some information,” she admitted, “And the extra good news is that he’s wanted by the Guild, so we can take the puck and earn some credits in the process.”

“Can we trust her?” Din demanded.

“Lyra’s an agent like Greef Karga. She and I started out in the Guild at the same time,” Sari reassured him. “I lived with her on and off for years while I worked out of Canto Bight before I transferred to Nevarro. She won’t ask too many questions about Grogu, either. I trust her.”

“If you say so,” he conceded. “I guess we’re going to Canto Bight, then.”

“Are you going to admit the Force was right yet?” she teased and could imagine the sour expression on his face as he sighed heavily into the commlink.

“That remains to be seen.”

* * *

“Cheeps!” Sari said delightedly as she knelt down in the front hallway of Lyra’s house in Canto Bight and opened her arms for the mooka to run eagerly into her embrace, his claws scrabbling against the tile floor. “Hey, buddy,” she crooned as Cheeps trilled back at her, nuzzling her affectionately, “I missed you.”

“ _This_ is Cheeps the mooka?” Din asked behind her, sounding amused, and Grogu cooed from his hover-pod beside Din curiously, peering down at Cheeps with wide eyes.

“Don’t you start with the name again,” Sari warned Din over her shoulder as she scratched behind the mooka’s ears. “I had to leave him here with Lyra when I last left town and couldn’t bring him with me,” she added as an explanation once she climbed to her feet again, unable to help but smile as Cheeps continued to nuzzle her ankle fondly.

“He cried for _days_ after she left,” Lyra informed Din wryly, her vivid green eyes crinkled with amusement. “And I don’t blame him, I’ve missed you, too,” she added to Sari, brushing purple hair out of her face absently as she spoke. “Two years without a single word? Really? You could’ve spared the time for _one_ comm to let me know how you were doing sooner.”

“I’m really bad at keeping in touch?” Sari tried, flushing with embarrassment. “Don’t take it personally, I do it to my sister, too.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Oh, well, if even your sister doesn’t make the cut, then I guess your old roommate doesn’t rank high on your list.” She had already begun to grin, though, the grudge easily forgotten as she held her hand out to Din. “Nice to finally meet you, Mando. Your reputation in the Guild precedes you.”

Din shook her hand briefly. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you.”

Lyra shrugged modestly. “I haven’t been out in the field myself for a good ten years or so now, not since I lost the leg.” She rapped her knuckles against the metal of the prosthetic leg she wore. “I can’t move as fast as I used to, so I just deal pucks out instead these days. Speaking of which-” She fished a bounty puck out of her pocket, passing it to Sari. “Here’s your guy - Lex Moran. Usually frequents a nightclub four blocks over from here and deals out spice to underage buyers.”

“He gives drugs to kids? As if you needed to give us _more_ of a reason to arrest him,” Sari deadpanned, examining the contents of the puck and watching out of the corner of her eye as Cheeps snuffled at Din’s ankle.

Din paused before kneeling to the mooka’s height, scratching behind his ears gently and murmuring something in Mando’a that Sari couldn’t quite pick up. Cheeps trilled happily, nudging his head into Din’s gloved hand in return.

“There’s one downside to this mission,” Lyra admitted, making Sari look back up from the puck in her hands. “You’re going to have to go in solo.”

“That’s not happening,” Din said stiffly before Sari could answer, climbing back to his feet. “I go where she goes.” Her heart twisted in her chest at how easily he said it; if it hadn’t been for Lyra’s presence, she might have dared to lean up and kiss him then and there.

“What are you planning to do, drag the baby along with you to the club?” Lyra cast a skeptical glance at Grogu, who was peering out of the pod down at Cheeps and reaching eagerly for the mooka’s soft fur. Cheeps pushed his head into the pod obediently, allowing Grogu to pat the top of his head gingerly. “And no offense, Mando, but with all that beskar, you’d be spotted a mile away even if you didn’t bring the kid along. Sari’s going to blend right in once she ditches the weaponry and puts on a dress.”

“A _dress_?” Sari echoed, startled and dismayed when she realized what Lyra was hinting at. “Don’t tell me this is one of _those_.”

“One of what?” Din demanded.

“A honeypot,” Lyra answered before Sari could warn her not to, shrugging easily. “It’s not the first one Sari and I have run together.”

“It’s not, is it,” Din said darkly, not bothering to make it sound like a question, and Sari shrugged uncomfortably as he aimed his visor at her in silent disapproval.

“I’ve told you before, we all do stupid stuff when we’re young.” He didn’t take his expressionless gaze off her and she could feel the tension radiating off him like heat waves in a desert. “I never allowed it to get too far, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t.” He turned sharply on his heel, storming out of the house, and Sari shoved the bounty puck into her pocket.

“Watch Grogu for a minute, please,” she told Lyra, not waiting for a response as she hurried outside after Din.

He hadn’t made it far, leaning against the alley wall behind the house with his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared at her, his visor giving nothing away as usual.

“This is the only lead we’ve got,” Sari tried. “But if this is going to be a problem, I can give the puck back to Lyra and we can move on from-”

“You’ve slept with targets,” he interrupted her.

“I told you, I’ve never let it get that far,” she insisted, “I flirted enough to lower their guards before putting cuffs on them. That’s all, I swear. And besides, the last time I ran a honeypot mission was years ago. Are you really going to judge me for something I did in my early twenties, Mr. ‘Target Practice?’”

Only the past few months of knowing her partner gave away the minute flinch that her low blow had earned her - as if she had slapped him - and she bit the inside of her cheek, already feeling a twinge of guilt for hurting him in her defensiveness.

“I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“It was,” Din agreed stiffly, but allowed Sari to step in closer and gently tug his crossed arms away from his chest.

“I don’t want anyone’s hands on me but yours,” she reassured him as she curled her fingers around his, which made an iota of tension bleed out of his shoulders. “And I’ll keep you on comms at all times. But I’ve been a bounty hunter almost as long as you have, so you’re going to have to trust that I can take care of myself, kar’ta’ner.”

She hoped that the Mando’a nickname would soften him up and it seemed to succeed as he let out a long, heavy sigh. “I know you can, cyare.”

“Then let me take this mission and get the information we need.” She lifted one of their intertwined hands, pressing a kiss to the tiny strip of skin visible at his wrist where his glove ended. “And I’ll come home to you after. I promise.”

“You’re not going alone,” he insisted. “At least let me stake the place out while you go in.”

“I can watch the kid here,” Lyra suggested from the mouth of the alley and they both turned to face her. She had Grogu balanced on her hip as he nibbled a cookie clutched in his tiny hands, likely one she had given him from the biscuit container Sari knew she always kept full in her kitchen. “If you’re both going, I mean,” she added. “You can pick him up when you hand the target off and collect your payment.”

Din dropped his gaze back down to Sari as she nodded back to him in a silent confirmation; it was safe to leave Grogu with Lyra. He sighed quietly one last time before turning to Lyra and dipping his head briefly in agreement.

“Great,” Lyra said, relieved. “Because I’ve been looking forward to putting makeup on Sari again for literal years.”

“Do you _have_ to?” Sari didn’t mean for it to come out as a whine, but at least it had the effect of getting Din to relax marginally beside her, seemingly amused at her dismay.

“I’ll give you a cookie if you sit still long enough to be my canvas,” Lyra cajoled and Sari rolled her eyes.

“Lyra, please, I’m an adult.” She cracked a grin. “Make it _two_ cookies.”

* * *

“You’re going to look so pretty when I’m done with you,” Lyra told Grogu as the child blinked back up at her with wet eyes, solemnly allowing her to paint lipstick over his mouth.

He had begun to cry when Sari had left him with Din to change into the borrowed dress Lyra had pressed into her hands - which Din hadn’t managed to catch a glimpse of before she had quickly ducked into the refresher - and so Lyra had taken the child out of Din’s hands to keep him entertained. Cheeps the mooka was curled up in the corner of the room, his ears flicking absently as he dozed on a pillow.

“I can hear the gears turning inside that bucket of yours,” Lyra added over her shoulder as she smudged rouge gently onto Grogu’s cheeks. “Relax, Mando, I wouldn’t send Sari into a situation she can’t handle. She’s like family to me.”

“She seems to have that effect on a lot of people,” Din answered instead of continuing to address the elephant in the room.

“Yeah, she’s a pretty good egg.” Lyra cast a fond look at the refresher door before wiping her hands clean of makeup. “So how’d you two start traveling together? Last I heard, you worked alone.”

“We ran into each other while hunting him.” Din nodded to Grogu and Lyra paused, her eyebrows rising briefly in surprise.

“You were hunting the kid?” she echoed, bewildered. “Who’d put a bounty on a baby’s head?”

“The Empire,” Sari supplied as she stepped out of the refresher and Din turned to her before freezing in place as he took her in.

Her hair had been smoothed out with some sort of product, falling in a single pin-straight dark sheet down her back. It seemed so alien compared to the messy curls he loved to tangle his fingers in that it took him aback even before he noticed what she was wearing.

At first, it seemed as though she wore nothing but a tightly-woven net patterned with intricate flowers and vines, but then he realized that the dress’s inner satin lining simply matched her skin shade almost exactly and the outer lining was made of forest-green lace. The dress itself was tight and form-fitting as it clung to Sari’s curves, the hem ending mid-thigh in a way that likely meant it would ride up the moment she sat down anywhere.

Around her neck hung his Mythosaur necklace with the beskar pendant nestled just above the neckline of her dress, which was cut so low that a generous amount of cleavage was visible and seemed to only be held up by a thin pair of dark green straps over her otherwise-bare shoulders. Her feet were adorned with golden high-heeled shoes that looked painful to balance on, a far cry from the soft, worn combat boots he knew she favored.

When she caught him staring at her, a pink flush rose on her cheeks and she self-consciously tucked an unnaturally straight strand of hair behind her ear where he knew her Imperial operating tag was hidden. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him for an opinion; he didn’t know if he could control his vocal cords enough to come up with an answer for her.

Thankfully, she was almost immediately distracted by Grogu, her shoulders trembling briefly with a barely-suppressed laugh. When Din followed her gaze, even he had to bite back a smile at the sight of their foundling’s face, powdered and rouged with a dab of bright red lipstick on his tiny mouth for the finishing touch.

“You look great, kiddo,” Sari told Grogu mock-seriously once she got her laughter under control.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Lyra agreed, looking over her artistic work with pride even as Grogu held his arms plaintively out to Sari.

“Bwah.”

Grinning, Sari obediently scooped the child up, pecking the top of his head before accepting a wet wipe from Lyra to begin cleaning the makeup off his face.

“As lovely as you look, your natural face is cute enough,” she told Grogu when he squirmed away from the makeup wipe before passing him over to Din once he was cleaned off.

“Alright, your turn.” Lyra patted the seat in front of the dressing table and Sari wrinkled her nose.

“Nothing too flashy, please, the dress is bad enough.” Din silently agreed; as beautiful as she looked in the dress, it seemed far too foreign on her after months of seeing her in comfortably soft short-sleeved shirts and cargo pants.

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping it simple. I’m mainly just going to cover up those new scars on your face,” Lyra explained, plucking a tin off the table even as Din watched Sari’s fingers drift up first to the thin white scar on her cheek and then to the matching one on her temple where Xi’an’s knives had grazed her face a month earlier.

“Oh,” she said faintly, as if she had forgotten the scars were there.

“Anyone looks at those, they’ll mark you as a bounty hunter right away.” Lyra began to dab concealer over the scars once Sari took a seat at the table.

Din had to look away as the short dress - as predicted - slid up Sari’s thighs slowly, focusing on wrestling Grogu out of the crevice between his pauldron and chest plate again instead to keep himself distracted. By the time he looked up again, the woman sitting in front of the dresser looked absolutely nothing like his clanmate.

Her hazel eyes were outlined with black liquid liner, some sort of glittering golden dust brushed over the dark green eyeshadow on her eyelids, and her lips were painted a deep wine-red shade. Her tanned skin was abnormally smooth and flawless, likely due to the concealer Lyra had painted on, and even her eyelashes seemed longer and fuller.

“Okay, I think you’re done,” Lyra said as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“‘Keeping it simple,’ huh?” Sari said dryly as she examined herself with a grimace in the mirror; at least her voice was still the same, even if the makeup seemed to have transformed her face into that of a stranger’s.

“In my defense, for me, this _is_ simple,” Lyra pointed out and Sari shrugged slightly, brushing her straightened hair out of her face again.

“You’re not wrong, you’ve done me up far worse in the past. Are we good to go?”

“Should be.” Lyra checked the time. “It’s about half-past eight. My contact said Moran usually gets there at nine, so the two of you have time to infiltrate and set up. How long will you need to get him in cuffs?”

“What do you think?” Sari turned to Din and he felt his throat go dry as her gaze landed on him, dark and smoky with the makeup painted around her eyes. “Half an hour?”

“Yeah, just about,” he managed to get out and her eyebrows furrowed slightly, but even as her burgundy-painted lips parted, Lyra cut in.

“Great. I’ll have the speeder with my guys waiting outside the front door for when you two bring the target out.” She held her hands out expectantly and Din obediently passed Grogu back to her. “And meanwhile, this little guy and I are gonna have _so_ much fun together,” she enthused as Grogu reached for the small horns on her head with a delighted squeal of his own.

“Please don’t paint his face again,” Sari requested dryly.

“Me? Never,” Lyra lied blatantly.

“Well, at least clean him up when you’re done playing dress-up,” Sari conceded, climbing to her feet again and tugging her dress down from where it had ridden up.

“You’re not armed at all,” Din pointed out when he realized she had left her hooked blades and blaster behind with her old clothes.

“I’ve got a knife,” she corrected him, tapping a hidden spot on her thigh just above the hem of her dress, and he purposely kept his eyes averted from the spot in question. “And I have you. What else would I need?”

The ease with which she said it somehow loosened the knot that had been steadily forming in his chest since he had first heard the terms of the mission.

“Besides, in the worst-case scenario, these heels could probably murder somebody,” she added as she glanced down at her own feet with a grimace. “Like me, if I fall over and break my neck.”

“You’ll be _fine_ , you drama queen,” Lyra dismissed from where she was setting Grogu down next to Cheeps in the corner so that the two could play. “I’ve seen you do full-on rooftop parkour in heels like those before.”

“Fifteen years ago, maybe,” Sari retorted with a goodnatured eye-roll. “I’m out of practice even _walking_ in heels now.”

“I’ll keep you from breaking your neck,” Din reassured her.

The smile she leveled up at him - the one that belonged exclusively to him - made his breath catch in his throat as she leaned in to bump her forehead against his in a silent mirshmure’cya. She didn’t even have to stand on her toes to do it; her ridiculously uncomfortable-looking shoes made her almost as tall as his visor when she normally came up to only his chin.

“You two are going to give me a cavity,” Lyra complained from behind them, but when Din looked back at the Guild agent, a fond smile was tugging at her lips as she glanced between the two of them. “Don’t you have a job to do? Get going.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sari’s fingers curled around Din’s, the sensation familiar even though she hardly looked anything like the woman he knew as she tugged him towards the door.

* * *

“I’m in. Do you read me?” Sari asked quietly into her shoulder where a commlink was carefully tucked into the thin strap of her dress, shielded by the strategic placement of her straightened hair.

“Loud and clear,” Din’s voice crackled from the other side of the commlink, barely audible over the blaring music of the nightclub as she made her way through the crowd. “Lyra’s source says Moran will likely be in a corner booth. I’ve got a visual on you.” Instinctively, Sari glanced up at the sheer transparisteel roof of the nightclub, but Din warned, “Don’t try to find me, you’ll give away my position.”

Flushing slightly, she snapped her gaze forward again; it was a rookie mistake and she should have known better than to have tried, but the idea of anyone - much less someone she was far too afraid of losing - watching her painful attempts at flirtation had left her feeling entirely wrong-footed, and not just because of the uncomfortable heels on her feet.

“Sorry.”

“Worry less about where I am and more about reaching the other side of the room without tripping,” he told her dryly and she bit her tongue to stifle a pithy retort in response; she had already lost her balance several times on their way to the nightclub and would have fallen flat on her face had Din not been there to loop his arm around her waist and steady her in time.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to try and remember how she’d kept her balance years ago on heels much like the ones she wore now, carefully shifting her weight until she was more steady on her feet before starting to walk across the crowded floor. Multiple heads turned in her direction, but she kept her gaze focused forward, intent on just making it across the room without falling, as per Din’s sarcastic suggestion.

“Table two over from you,” she heard his voice crackle against her shoulder, rough and low even through the modulator in a way that made her instinctively want to ask what was wrong; he sounded far tenser than she had anticipated. “He’s looking right at you.”

“Good, less work for me,” she murmured, careful not to let her mouth move too much as she turned to lean against the nearby bar purposefully.

“Leave the line open,” he instructed quietly and she hummed a nearly-silent confirmation, knowing he would hear it.

“Buy you a drink?” Sari tilted her head towards the man who had offered; his face was identical to the one on the bounty puck she’d slid into the small sheath on her thigh next to her knife.

“Sure,” she agreed, pitching her voice marginally higher so that it didn’t sound as throaty and hoarse; she’d learned early on in her career that men preferred their girls soft-spoken and sweet-voiced. “Surprise me.”

“Spotchka for the lady,” Lex Moran told the droid manning the bar and Sari caught the cup of electric-blue alcohol that slid down the counter with ease. The first sip she took made her heart ache for the planet she and Din had left behind just the previous day, and she didn’t bother with a second. “That’s an interesting necklace,” Moran noted and Sari did her best not to instinctively cover Din’s necklace with her hand to shield it from view.

“It is, isn’t it? I think of it as my good-luck charm.” She angled herself carefully to let Moran get a better look at the beskar pendant instead. “Pure beskar. It’s such a rare find.”

“It is,” he agreed, his pale blue eyes darting below the pendant to eye the cleavage it was nestled between instead. “How’d you get it?”

Sari shrugged modestly, trying not to allow her skin to crawl as his eyes raked over her. “Found it at a market, if you can believe it. The vendor thought it was durasteel. You’ve got a good eye, no one appreciates fine jewelry these days.”

“What are you doing?” Din hissed, barely audible in her ear, and she ignored him.

“Got a friend who’s seen some armor made of that stuff,” Moran answered distractedly, his gaze dipping to the hem of her dress. “Not too long ago, actually.”

“Really?” Sari tilted her head innocently. “I thought only Mandalorians wore beskar armor.”

“That’s the thing, he claims he saw one of them.” Moran grinned back at her, revealing unnaturally whitened teeth. “Imagine that, huh? Everybody knows the Mandalorians are a dying race.”

“Seems like all that beskar doesn’t do much more than make pretty necklaces, then.” Sari forced an airy giggle as she did her best to send a silent apology to Din; the tension radiating through the commlink was agonizingly palpable. “Where’d your friend say he saw this Mandalorian?” she prompted, taking advantage of Moran’s distraction.

“Relax, doll,” Moran dismissed, his fingers reaching for the hem of her dress and sliding up her thigh. She swallowed back the bile in her throat as his fingertips grazed the edge of her underwear beneath her dress, setting her cup of spotchka down on the bar carefully. “If it’s pretty jewelry you’re looking for, I can get you as much as you like.”

Giving up the ruse, she grabbed his hand quickly and yanked it out from under her dress, bending his thumb back abruptly towards his wrist as he let out a yelp of startled pain. She was unsurprised when not a single patron of the nightclub looked twice at them; seeing someone getting assaulted was probably a nightly occurrence there.

“I wouldn’t recommend putting your hands on me again if I were you,” she warned. “Your friend’s name, please.”

“What the hell-?” Moran sputtered and she yanked his thumb back even further, a silent threat to dislocate it entirely. “Argh! Okay, okay, it’s Koresh! Gor Koresh!”

“Great.” Sari released his hand cheerfully. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll be collecting that bounty on you now.”

“Kriff,” he realized before turning and bolting for the back door of the nightclub, cradling his injured hand to his chest.

“Please tell me you’re in pursuit and have cuffs ready, Mando, because these heels are going to slow me down,” Sari warned into her commlink, but Din didn’t answer her. “Din?” she asked warily as she gave up and began to slide her heels off entirely to take pursuit if her partner was otherwise occupied.

“I’m in pursuit,” he said shortly. The barely restrained fury in his voice was unmistakably aimed at her as he added, “You blew your cover too early, you didn’t even ask him about the Jedi.”

“I never said we were here for information on Jedi,” she admitted as she took off barefoot across the nightclub floor, easily making her way through the path that Moran had made as he forced himself through the crowd.

Din was silent for a long moment before he said slowly, “You lied to me.”

“I omitted some details, can we please discuss this later?” she demanded breathlessly as she vaulted over a rolling cart that blocked her route.

“We will,” he promised darkly before he cut off his comms entirely and the definitive click in Sari’s ears was somehow worse than the sound of a blaster going off.

She focused on pushing her way out through the swinging back door instead of dwelling on it, grabbing her knife from the hidden sheath on her thigh with her free hand and aiming it at the flapping lapel of Moran’s coat before throwing it hard enough to pin him against the brick wall of the alleyway.

“Please don’t make me throw the shoes next, they’re borrowed,” she told him dryly as she caught her breath and watched him fruitlessly try to pull the knife out; she knew it had been embedded deeply enough into the wall that it required a lot of upper body strength that Moran didn’t have to free himself. “Also, you sell spice to _kids_? What the hell, asshole?”

“They’re good customers,” he said with a shrug, but his pale eyes doubled in size as Din jumped down into the alley beside them, straightening to his full height once he landed. “You’re _working_ with a Mandalorian? No wonder you wanted information on his kind.” Moran turned an accusatory glare on Sari as she shrugged mildly.

“Guilty, pal.”

Din yanked the knife out of the wall unceremoniously before turning Moran roughly around to cuff his hands behind his back.

“Wait here,” he told Sari sharply and she decided not to push her luck by ignoring him; she could feel the frustration radiating off him as he marched the spice smuggler out of the alley and out to the front of the nightclub to deliver him to the speeder Lyra likely had waiting for them.

Grimacing, Sari did her best to pull the hem of her dress down as far as the material would stretch; she felt grimy just from the brief touch against her thigh and was looking forward to getting into a shower as quickly as possible to scrub herself clean. Even though honeypot missions in the past had never gotten beyond a few kisses forced on her in an alleyway like the one she was in now, they had also never failed to make her feel all sorts of disgusted with her targets and with herself.

Abruptly, she was forced out of her head as she was shoved back against the brick wall behind her unceremoniously. Her shoes fell out of her grip and clattered to the ground as a gloved hand pinned her wrists above her head.

“Hey, what-?!” The protest died in her throat when she realized it was Din holding her in place, practically bristling with rage.

“Shut your eyes,” he ordered gruffly.

“I’m sorry about what I said about the beskar, I didn’t mean-” she tried.

“ _Shut them_ ,” he growled and she obediently closed her eyes, not willing to risk upsetting him further.

She heard the soft hiss of his helmet sliding off before it fell to the ground with a dull thud that she had never heard before - he had always treated his helmet with far more respect as he set it down, but clearly not this time - as his lips found her neck in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that made her head fall back instinctively against the wall to give him more room.

“You were looking for information on Mandalorians, not Jedi. Why did you lie to me?” he demanded against her throat.

“Din, your Creed-” she started, but his grip on her wrists tightened painfully and she choked back a whimper as his teeth grazed over her pulse point.

“It’s dark. No one’s looking. _Answer me_ , Sarika.” He pressed between her legs as she instinctively hooked one leg around his hip to draw him closer; even through the layers of armor and the thick material of the pants he wore underneath, she could feel the hard line of his arousal pressing against the inside of her thigh.

“The lead might’ve been false. I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” she forced out through the haze of desire clouding her head. She desperately wished her hands were free so that she could pull him up into a proper kiss, but his hold on her wrists was unyielding.

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” he retorted before his tongue laved over the sensitive skin below her pulse point, making her arch against him and bite her lip hard to stifle a gasp. “And you don’t get to withhold information from me.”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“What happened to ‘we’re in this together?’” he interrupted her, ignoring the apology as he pulled back to press their foreheads together. “Or does that line only mean something to you when you use it on me?”

“It doesn’t,” Sari insisted, her eyes prickling sharply with tears at the accusation even as she kept them tightly shut, but Din was already pulling away in the next instant, releasing her wrists and picking up his helmet to slide it back over his head. When she dared to open her eyes again, he was at the mouth of the alley, his shoulders taut with anger.

“Let’s go.” He turned sharply and disappeared out of sight, leaving her to scramble to pick up her abandoned shoes and follow after him as she swiped at her stinging eyes with her wrist before the tears could fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Kar'ta'ner: my heart (literally translates to 'heart of mine', but this is a nickname Sari made up herself for Din, so we can forgive any grammatical errors since she's still learning the language and Din's likely too flattered to correct her)  
> Cyare: beloved  
> Mirshmure'cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'
> 
> Oof, Sari. And you were doing so well with communication with Din, too. He'll forgive her soon, of course, but this was still rough for me to write since I'm so attached to these two being happy now. ;A;
> 
> This chapter was a real roller-coaster of emotions, but luckily, most of the side-mission is over with this and we can get back to canon starting halfway through the next chapter. :D hope you enjoyed this brief side-quest and glimpse into Sari's early years as a bounty hunter in the meantime!
> 
> Here are [her dress](https://di2ponv0v5otw.cloudfront.net/posts/2018/03/27/5abab41cdf19a53392cf2d8e/m_5abab421c9fcdf2e453cb3e6.jpeg) and [her shoes](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQEFCtpc8lNy6r9JnuKhDgAeE82_h5j_3iatp1Wr7OBFA6BfH8qcTgOsY-gn7jLFFfw10i60ra7&usqp=CAc), btw, for anyone who wants references.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari and Din follow up on the lead they've uncovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Potential content warning: mentions of dubcon and mild sexual harassment**
> 
> So this is just in case the warning was needed for discussion of the previous chapter's events, but if after you guys are through with the chapter and you feel there are any more content warnings this chapter needs, please let me know and I can always modify the warning above. Thanks!

“I got the call from my guys that you delivered the target,” Lyra said cheerfully as she opened her door once Din rapped his knuckles against it. “I’ll arrange for that payment and - yikes,” she added as her eyes fell on Sari and widened. “Are you okay, Sari?”

Din did his best not to look at the woman at his side instinctively, though he couldn’t ignore the quiet, hitched breaths beside him as she kept her composure together by barely a few threads.

“Yeah,” she dismissed, but he knew the tremble in her voice far too well by now. “Yeah, everything’s fine. How’s Grogu?”

“Kid’s out like a light in his pod, Cheeps wore him out with a chase around the living room,” Lyra answered, but her green eyes darted between the two of them cautiously. “Did you get the information you needed?”

“We did,” Sari confirmed and Din ignored the glance she sent his way, not daring to meet her gaze and see how smudged her eyeliner was after he had seen her furtively wiping her eyes with her bare wrist multiple times in his peripheral vision on their way back. “Thanks for watching Grogu. We’ll pick him up and head out now.”

“Hey, at least stay the night,” Lyra offered, “You guys can clean up and get some rest before you head out, and I’ll have the credits ready for you in the morning.”

“I don’t-” Sari began tentatively.

“Fine,” Din interrupted and she looked up again at him, startled. “You need to wash that makeup off,” he told her; the longer she looked unlike herself, the more it made his skin crawl.

“He’s right,” Lyra said, although she still sounded worried as she stepped back to allow them inside. “Go ahead and shower, Sari, you know where everything is. Remember, you’ll need an extra-”

“Two makeup wipes for the glitter dust to get it all off, I know,” Sari reassured her distractedly, stepping inside and passing off the golden shoes still clutched in her hand - Din tried to ignore the instinctive stab of guilt for not noticing that she had walked the entire way back to the house barefoot, having been too caught up in his own frustration with her - to Lyra before heading up the stairs to the refresher on the second floor. Once she disappeared inside, the shower turned on shortly after.

“What did he do to her?” Lyra turned on Din, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Put his hand on her leg,” he admitted; in retrospect, the minute touch really had been practically nothing before Sari had blown her cover, but even the sight of Moran’s fingers disappearing beneath her dress had made Din see red.

“Is that all?” Lyra pressed.

“That’s all. Did you know she was going to ask about other Mandalorians?” he blurted out before he could stop himself and she shrugged mildly.

“That’s why she reached out to me, so yeah.” Lyra frowned thoughtfully. “Well, technically, she asked about both Mandalorians _and_ Jedi, but I’d only heard about the former.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Din demanded.

“She asked me not to when she replied to my comm that you guys were on your way to Canto Bight.” Lyra shrugged. “Said she didn’t want to get your hopes up if the lead didn’t go anywhere and she was already to blame for you losing your tribe, so-”

“She’s not,” Din interrupted her even as nausea began to settle in at the thought of Sari blaming herself for what had happened to the covert on Nevarro.

“Well, whatever actually happened to them, I’m sorry,” Lyra offered after a moment. “If you’re mad at her for hiding things from you, you’ve probably got a right to be, but she meant well.”

“I know she did.” Din briefly wished he didn’t have his helmet on so that he could rub his exhausted eyes. “Where’s the kid’s pod?”

“Over in the corner of the living room.” Lyra nodded over her shoulder and Din entered the room, crossing the distance to the pod and examining the sleeping child inside.

Grogu clutched the stuffed mudhorn toy Sari had bought for him on Tatooine for Life Day, one of its ears bent from his frequent chewing and some of the shaggy pieces of faux fur falling out into his pod from his rough mishandling of the toy. His snores were soft and breathy and Din couldn’t help but reach out instinctively to tuck the ends of the blanket in around the child. Grogu snuffled in his sleep before settling back down again just as Din heard the creak of the shower turning off again upstairs.

“Thank you for looking after him,” he said to Lyra quietly so that he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping child beside him.

“Yeah, anytime. Kid’s a real sweetheart.” She glanced at the pod with a brief, fond smile. “Go get some rest, Mando. Second room on the left.”

“Thank you.” After one last glance at Grogu to make sure he was secure for the night, Din headed up the stairs.

When he opened the door to the guest bedroom, Sari was sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but her chest-wrap, underwear, and his Mythosaur necklace around her neck, her gaze unfocused and aimed somewhere around her knees. Her hair was still slightly damp, but thankfully curly again without the product in it to keep it straightened, and her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. A faint pink blemish against her neck was all that remained of the bruise he had selfishly attempted to leave on her skin in his anger.

When he let his gaze travel down, he could see even more splotches of color on the inside of her thigh, right where he had seen Moran’s fingers brush against her skin. He didn’t remember the man touching her so roughly, but perhaps he had been so distracted by her - her dress sliding indecently against her thighs as she shifted in her seat, the foreign makeup on her face, the way her lips curved upwards as she smiled at someone who wasn’t _him_ \- that he hadn’t noticed.

As he shut the door behind himself, her head jerked up at the sound, revealing the bright, shining tears in her eyes; that made it the fourth time he had seen her cry at all and the third that was his fault, which only served to make his heart twist painfully.

“Ni ceta,” she blurted out in Mando’a, her voice breaking on the apology, and Din’s already-wavering resolve to remain upset with her dissolved entirely as he closed the space between them, kneeling on the floor in front of her instead.

“Shut your eyes, cyar’ika,” he told her, the order less harsh than it had been earlier in the alley, and she closed her eyes immediately even as tears streamed down her face.

He removed his helmet, setting it aside on the floor before kissing her tenderly as he cupped her face to thumb away her tears carefully. Her hands braced against his shoulders as she leaned into the kiss desperately, as if she had been waiting all her life for it.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated in Basic when he pulled away, still keeping her eyes tightly shut; he knew she wouldn’t open them again unless he told her it was safe to do so or she heard his helmet slide back on. He didn’t bother with either just yet, climbing to his feet and moving his helmet to the nightstand beside the bed.

“I know you are.” He unclasped his armor one piece at a time, setting them down on the floor beside the bed and peeling off his gloves before moving to the light switch on the wall to engulf the room in darkness. “It’s dark now, you can open your eyes.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you,” she admitted and he watched her head turn, searching for him unseeingly in the darkness of the room once her eyes opened again.

“You shouldn’t have,” he agreed, settling on the edge of the bed beside her and pulling her into his lap.

She went willingly where he guided her, her knees on either side of him as she straddled his hips, and he had to stop himself from shivering at the feeling of her settling on top of him like she belonged there; it felt so much more intimate without his armor in the way as it had been in the alley behind the nightclub. She smelled of lemon and lavender - likely the soap she had used during her shower - and it was all he could do not to bury his face into her warm, bare skin and breathe the scent in as his hands settled on her hips and her arms slipped over his shoulders in return, her fingers tangling loosely in his hair like they always did whenever he removed his helmet around her.

“I didn’t want it to hurt you if this lead turned out to be nothing. You've been hurt enough as it is without me making it worse, but I guess I did anyway. I’m sorry, Din.” She tilted her head up and he leaned down reflexively to let her press her lips against his forehead delicately, as if she thought he was some fragile porcelain doll instead of an immovable beskar statue.

Even as he blinked back the sharp stinging in his eyes, he insisted quietly, “You’re not responsible for what happened to my people, Sari. I chose to run with you and the kid, and they chose to protect us.”

“We _are_ in this together,” she said, resolutely ignoring what he had said even as her voice cracked again. “It’s not-” She swallowed harshly, clearly forcing her vocal cords to keep working so that she wouldn’t have to sign in the dark. “It’s not only important to me when I say it to you. It’s everything to me, always.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her pulse point and felt her heart rate pick up briefly against his lips, the twinge of guilt sharp in his chest for ever doubting her. “I shouldn’t have said that, or hurt you. I’m sorry, mesh’la. For everything.”

“Me, too.” She brushed another soft kiss against his hairline and he shut his eyes again tightly to recompose himself; she likely had no idea how effective the simple gesture was in breaking his carefully constructed walls down and reducing them to rubble. “I shouldn’t have kept any of this from you.”

“You can’t decide for me what information I deserve to know. If we really _are_ in this together, we need to be on the same page about everything,” he told her before adding a little more sharply, “And you can’t _ever_ put your own safety at risk like that for my sake again.”

“Wasn’t at risk,” she muttered sullenly, but winced slightly when he let his fingers drift down to where he had seen the spots of reddened skin on the inside of her bare thigh.

“Then what do you call this?”

“I did that,” she admitted, embarrassment coloring her tone. “It didn’t feel clean enough. Still doesn’t.”

Swallowing back the lump in his throat at the thought of Sari scrubbing her skin red and raw, Din let his fingers trail over the sensitive, silken skin and she shuddered against him even as she trailed lazy kisses down the side of his face.

“I think you’ve ruined me for being touched by anyone but you,” she teased and he was glad to hear the vulnerable tremble finally leave her voice.

“No one else is going to get to touch you,” he said firmly, the fervor of the promise surprising even him.

“Yeah?” He could feel her mouth curve up into a broad, relieved smile against the corner of his mouth. “Good. Ni be’gar, baar bal runi.” Her pronunciation was textbook-perfect, as if she had memorized exactly how he had said it before just so that she could say it back to him.

“Gar’ner,” he agreed, tilting his head just enough to kiss her properly again. “I hated seeing you made up like that,” he confessed as he pulled back just enough to blindly press a kiss to each of the thin pale scars on her face now that they were no longer covered by makeup - first the one on her cheek and then the one on her temple. “You didn’t look like yourself. You didn’t _sound_ like yourself. Your voice was different.”

“What, you mean like this?” Sari purposely pitched her voice higher until it sounded like it had earlier through the commlink, forcing the natural rasp Din had fallen in love with out of her voice entirely as she added, “I can’t keep it up for longer than a few minutes at a time, it hurts my throat too much. But a lot of guys prefer this voice. It’s not as rough around the edges.”

“It’s not _you_.” Din ducked his head to kiss the hollow of her throat. “I love your voice the way it is. Rough edges and all.”

“I’m glad.” Her voice lowered back to its usual husky register again as he felt one hand thread into the hair at the back of his head. He let his eyes briefly fall shut at the increasingly familiar sensation of her fingers carding through his hair slowly, pressing his forehead to her bare shoulder. “I love your voice, too. I could listen to you talk for hours.”

“You’d get sick of it,” he warned and her free hand’s fingers traced gingerly over the shell of his ear before sliding down to cup his chin carefully.

“Never,” she said firmly and he let her tilt his head up so that she could kiss him deeply again.

“I’m sorry I shoved you against that wall,” he told her when she pulled back and she huffed a breathless laugh as she angled her head down to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw that made him shiver.

“Are you kidding? If you hadn’t been so mad at me, I would’ve begged you to fuck me then and there.”

He swallowed, the idea sending a spike of arousal through him that he hadn’t anticipated. “Really?”

“Mhm. Oh, well. There’s always next time.” She shifted slightly on top of him and he instinctively clutched her waist to hold her still before he realized she was doing it on purpose, rolling her hips down against his maddeningly slowly.

“You don’t have to-” he began a protest that sounded feeble even to his own ears as her hands slid down to grasp the edge of his shirt, peeling it up and over his head, and her mouth crashed against his eagerly, cutting him off. He couldn’t stop the low moan it drew from his throat, muffled by her lips on his.

“And if I wanted to, kar’ta’ner?” she breathed into the kiss.

He felt her teeth graze over his lower lip, sending another shock of desire down his spine that had nothing to do with the delicate nip and everything to do with the Mando’a nickname she had somehow decided on for him; he was relatively sure she had just pieced it together on her own with what little of the language he’d taught her, and he loved her all the more for what it meant.

“Sari - _mesh’la_ -” His vocal cords refused to cooperate with him as she rocked her hips down against his again deliberately.

“Just let me, Din.” She tilted her head up to press another tender kiss to his forehead. “Please.”

He let her.

* * *

Sari awoke slowly and languidly, half-expecting to hear the rumbling of the Razor Crest beneath her before realizing that the bed she was in was much softer, with sheets that slid silkily against her skin. When she couldn’t feel Din’s solid warmth at her back, she dared to reach behind herself to find him, but her fingers only met the empty mattress.

Frowning instinctively, she rolled over and opened her eyes to find that he was gone, the sheets cold as if he had been for some time. His clothes she had tossed to the floor haphazardly the previous night and his armor were gone, and other than the rumpled sheets beside her, there was no sign he had ever been in the room at all. A neat bundle of freshly laundered clothes - her own, she realized with relief when she recognized the hooked blades tucked into the loops of the belt and the blaster in its holster at the top of the pile - sat at the foot of the bed, a piece of paper folded beside it.

Sari reached for the note first, opening it and smiling faintly at the handwriting on the page; it was impossible to mistake it for anyone’s but Din’s with how neat and precise it was.

_Don’t panic. I went for a supply run with the credits we earned last night and didn’t want to wake you. Should be back by the time you get up. I love you._

Making a mental note to preserve the written proof of his love somewhere more permanent, she carefully pocketed the piece of paper once she got dressed, tying her hair back into a loose ponytail instead of its usual braid for efficiency’s sake and heading down the stairs.

She followed the source of Lyra’s voice to the kitchen, where she found the Zabrak sitting at the table telling a story animatedly while Din leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his beskar chest plate and his helmet tilted consideringly as he listened to her. Grogu sat on the table, chewing on a strip of cooked meat that was likely his breakfast with his large eyes crinkled in delight, and Cheeps dozed under the table at Lyra’s feet.

“So there Sari and I were, strung upside-down by our ankles from the ceiling of this warehouse on Fifth Street, and when the Devaronians get back, she has the _audacity_ to swing herself around and go, ‘Hey, fellas, how’s it hanging?’”

To Sari’s surprise, Din groaned goodnaturedly as his helmet tipped up towards the ceiling long-sufferingly; it was the most genuinely expressive sound she had ever heard him make around anyone but herself and Grogu.

“She _didn’t_. That’s terrible.”

“She _did_ ,” Lyra said with relish, “She even waited for them to laugh before getting her blades out to cut us free!”

“Which they did because _they_ could appreciate a well-timed bad pun, unlike _you_ heathens,” Sari said pointedly as she entered the kitchen, mirroring the broad grin Lyra sent her way and watching Din start in surprise as he turned to face her; he hadn’t heard her approach, which was a first. “Why did you let me sleep in?” she asked as she closed the gap between them, stealing a kiss to the underside of his jaw just beneath his helmet.

“You needed the rest.” He ducked his head to press a mirshmure’cya against her forehead in return. To her immense relief, he seemed to have entirely forgiven her for lying to him the previous night. “Good morning, mesh’la.”

“Morning, kar’ta’ner.” If they had been alone, she might have risked tilting his helmet up just enough to kiss him properly, with how entirely relaxed he seemed for once.

“Caf, Sari?” Lyra offered, climbing to her feet and heading for the caf machine in the corner of the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” Sari scooped Grogu up from the table when he held out his arms for her, pressing a kiss between his eyebrows as she settled him on her hip. “Hi, sunshine,” she crooned fondly. “Did you have fun with Lyra and Cheeps while we were gone?”

Grogu cooed back up at her in affirmation, patting her cheek as a greeting, and she squeezed him close; she hadn’t realized how much she had missed the child’s warm weight in her arms until he was nestled against her shoulder again.

“I don’t know why you kept warning me he was a little monster, he was perfectly well-behaved all night,” Lyra informed her as she passed over a steaming cup of caf.

“ _Really_.” Sari raised an eyebrow down at Grogu. “Where’s all this good behavior when we’ve got you?”

“Mweh?” He tilted his head innocently as his large ears flopped with the movement.

“I know the truth, you little womp-rat, you can’t trick me,” she warned and he grinned back at her impishly, revealing his tiny, sharp teeth - womp-rat, indeed.

“Anyway, now that you’re up, we can get back to business,” Lyra added before turning to Din, whose helmet had been angled down towards Sari and Grogu to watch them. Sari imagined there was a smile on his face behind the dark visor. “I ran that name you gave me and it turns out that Gor Koresh is an Abyssin who runs an underground fighting pit on the other side of the planet in Canto Mercen. Not exactly the most savory of places even during the daytime, and at night, well-” She grimaced. “That’s when the creatures come out.”

“‘The creatures?’” Sari echoed, bewildered as she sipped her caf and appreciated the warmth of the drink sliding down her throat; Lyra had made it just how she liked it, with only a little sweetener to soften the bitter taste. “That’s not ominous at all.” She continued to take slow sips of caf, letting it wake her senses properly and rid her of the lingering vestiges of sleep.

“Yeah, no one really knows what they are, can’t exactly study them without risking getting eaten.” The Zabrak shrugged mildly. “Just stay in the brightly lit areas and you should be safe from them.”

“We should be able to reach Canto Mercen with time to spare before night falls,” Din reasoned, glancing down at Sari again. “If we leave in the next hour, anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed as she drained the last of her caf, leaning into his side and feeling his fingers curl around her hip to draw her closer possessively. “Thanks for letting us stay the night, Lyra.”

“Just send another comm my way in less than two years this time,” Lyra warned. “I wanna hear that you’re doing okay now and then, Sari.”

“Yeah, will do.” Sari snapped off a mock-salute with her empty cup.

“And Mando?” Lyra added sharply to Din, whose helmet jerked up towards her in surprise. “Be good to my girl or I’ll hunt you down myself and break every single bone in your body.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, alarmed, and Sari rolled her eyes fondly back at her former roommate.

* * *

“I’m beginning to see what Lyra meant about these things, they’re creepy,” Sari noted grimly that night as they made their way through the graffiti-covered urban streets of Canto Mercen, instinctively pressing Grogu’s pod closer to herself as pairs of red eyes gleamed from the darkness all around them. One pair of red eyes blinked slowly when it caught Sari looking at it, lazy and cat-like, and she had to suppress a shiver of distaste.

“Stay under the lights,” Din reminded her and she obediently took a step closer to his side. “Seems to repel them well enough.” He cast a wary glance up at the yellowish-white street lamps illuminating the area before continuing down the road as Sari followed with Grogu’s pod hovering between them.

They reached the address Lyra had given them - a run-down giant building that resembled a warehouse more than a fighting pit - and Din knocked sharply on the metal door. A tall, dark-skinned Twi’lek opened the door and glared down at them suspiciously.

“We’re here to see Gor Koresh,” Din informed him stiffly.

The Twi’lek’s eyes roamed over Sari beside him and then Grogu in his small hover-pod before grudgingly stepping aside to let them into the building.

“Enjoy the fights,” he said, his voice deep and booming.

They headed down the steps to a large fighting arena where two Gamorreans were attacking each other with vibro-axes viciously as an audience cheered them on. Sari winced instinctively as one of the Gamorreans buried his vibro-axe into his opponent’s side, reminded far too much of the raised scar on Din’s left shoulder blade as she instinctively searched for the small of his back to press her palm against it.

His helmet angled towards her silently when he felt her fingers splay against his back and she shook her head to reassure him that she was alright, so he let it go, turning back to where a chubby Abyssin in a white suit watched the dead Gamorrean get dragged out of the arena with disinterest. His single eye fell on Din and Sari as they approached, appraising them for a moment before glancing briefly at Grogu in his pod.

“Eh?” Grogu peered up at Sari worriedly and she brushed one finger over his head to soothe him silently, pressing a warning into his head to close his pod himself if a fight broke out. He chirped back at her solemnly in agreement as they took a seat beside the Abyssin.

“This is no place for a child,” Gor Koresh informed them wryly.

“He goes where we do,” Din answered.

“That so?” Koresh tilted his head to look Sari over once more. “I heard that pretty girlfriend of yours got my friend arrested. Word travels fast on Cantonica.”

“In my defense, he was selling spice to kids and I wasn’t letting that slide,” Sari deadpanned, ignoring the warning look Din gave her.

“Tell you what.” Koresh leaned forward towards Din, his elbows on his knees. “You want information on other Mandalorians, right? I can tell you what I know... _if_ your girl goes into the ring next.” He nodded to the arena in front of them. “Consider it her way of making it up to me.”

“Depends, who am I fighting?” Sari asked curiously, ignoring the minute shake of Din’s helmet in her direction as Koresh pointed out the Gamorrean who had won the previous battle, sharpening his vibro-axe on the other side of the arena. “Oh, well, let’s see.” She made a show of glancing the Gamorrean over - she had gotten plenty of an appraisal during her brief glimpse of the previous fight, anyway - before shrugging modestly. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“ _Sari_ ,” Din hissed disapprovingly and she pressed her hand to his knee briefly to soothe him.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised before getting to her feet. “Keep Grogu in check for me, don’t let him get upset.” Even as she headed for the arena, she could hear Grogu whining anxiously behind her.

“Easy, kid,” Din said quietly behind her. “She’ll be alright.” It sounded more like he was reassuring himself than the child as Sari ducked under the ropes and climbed up onto the platform.

She unhooked her blades from her belt, snapping them open as she watched the Gamorrean climb into the ring on the other side.

“Howdy,” she said cheerfully, ignoring the incredulous head-turn it got her from Din.

The Gamorrean snorted with disdain as he eyed her. “Tiny girl.”

“Well, that’s rude, you didn’t even say ‘hi’ back,” she complained even as the bell rang to signal the beginning of the fight, ducking out of the way as he swung his vibro-axe at her head. He was incredibly clumsy and slow after his first fight, which meant it would be incredibly easy for her to win if she could keep avoiding him long enough to exhaust him.

“Are you a gambling man, Mando?” Gor Koresh asked as Sari rolled back to her feet and dodged another swing from the vibro-axe.

“Not when it can be avoided,” Din said stiffly, his helmet fixed on the arena intently as Sari caught the edge of the vibro-axe between her hooked blades and flipped the weapon out of the Gamorrean’s hands, sending it skidding across the arena.

She turned briefly to catch Din’s eye as the Gamorrean stumbled to regain his balance, putting away her blades and signing quickly, _Relax. I’ve got this_.

His shoulders remained tense, but he finally took his gaze off her, turning back to Gor Koresh as the Abyssin answered lightly, “Well, say that you were. How much would you be willing to put on your girl?”

Din cast another wary glance at Sari before shrugging one shoulder and answering, much to her surprise, “Actually, I’d rather put my money on the other guy.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Sari balked, insulted, before rolling out of the Gamorrean’s way as he lunged at her, forgoing retrieving the vibro-axe altogether in favor of just hitting her. “You realize I can hear you, right?” she added loudly enough for Din to hear her.

“She’s fast, but that’s about it,” he told Koresh, ignoring her; he was most definitely enjoying riling her up. “If he hits her once, she’s done.”

“You’re treading in dangerous waters, pal,” Sari warned as she leaned over the edge of the arena briefly to glower at Din, who tilted his helmet back at her innocently. “Keep it up and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“We don’t _have_ a couch,” he informed her smugly.

“Metaphorical couch!” She threw her hands in the air before promptly ducking as the Gamorrean swung his fist at her.

“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Koresh said, sounding amused. “Tell you what, I’ll bet that information you’re looking for on your girl winning in the next sixty seconds, since you won’t.”

“Great, thanks, glad to know _someone’s_ got faith in me,” Sari deadpanned as she dove for the abandoned vibro-axe, but it was heavy enough that she stumbled when she picked it up.

“And all you have to put up in exchange is your beskar armor,” Koresh added.

Din’s tone was clipped again behind Sari as she hefted the vibro-axe in her hands, preparing to take a swing at the large target in front of her. “I’m prepared to pay you for the information. I’m not leaving my fate up to chance.”

“Nor am I.” Abruptly, a laser blast shot past Sari and hit the Gamorrean squarely in the chest, causing him to keel over, dead.

“Aw, come on, I had him!” she complained, dropping the vibro-axe again as she turned around to find the audience dispersing quickly and several of Koresh’s men pulling out blasters to aim at Din’s helmet.

Even the Twi’lek doorman had reappeared, his expression stormy as he aimed a blaster at the unprotected spot on Din’s back. He would have to be the one Sari took out before he had a chance to fire, she knew. Luckily, no one’s eyes were on her, which made it easy for her to draw her own blaster from her thigh holster, keeping her movements slow so that they didn’t draw attention.

Koresh chuckled harshly as he aimed his own blaster directly at Din’s visor. “Thank you for coming to me. You know, when I heard your girl had gotten my friend arrested while asking around about your kind, I had a feeling you’d be headed my way. Normally, I have to seek out remnants of you Mandalorians in your hidden hives to harvest your precious shiny shells.”

Sari felt a twist of nausea at the thought as she subtly caught Grogu’s attention from where the child was staring wide-eyed at the scene before him, nodding briefly to him in a silent warning. He quickly reached for the button to close the pod himself, curling into his nest of blankets as the panels closed over his head.

“Beskar’s value continues to rise and I’ve grown quite fond of it. Give it to me now or I will peel it off your corpse,” Koresh said, his cold smile vanishing.

Din tilted his helmet slightly. “Tell me where the Mandalorian you saw was and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.”

“And here I thought you said you weren’t a gambler,” Koresh said, his eyebrow rising.

Din’s helmet tilted towards Sari, who lifted her blaster slowly to aim at the Twi’lek doorman as she watched the whistling birds on his wrist gauntlet prime themselves. “I’m not.”

As the whistling birds launched and took out the four henchmen surrounding Din, Sari pulled her blaster’s trigger, taking out the doorman with a headshot before swapping her blaster for the vibro-axe on the floor to throw it at another Gamorrean who had run into the fray. As the Gamorrean collapsed with the vibro-axe embedded in his shoulder, Din kicked Grogu’s pod out of the way, sending it zooming across the room, and grabbed the head of the Zabrak guard that rushed him to throw him into the spectator stands.

“‘I’d rather put my money on the other guy?’” Sari echoed dryly as she hopped down from the arena, landing beside Din and pivoting herself to press her back against his as two Zabraks and a human ran at them. “Really?”

He shrugged mildly and she could feel the movement behind her. “It’s true, your speed’s all you’ve got going for you in a fight.”

“Well, that’s just a blatant lie, so fuck you,” she grumbled and felt his back tremble slightly against hers with a barely-suppressed laugh.

“I’m sure you’d love to.”

Even as Sari whirled around again to gape at him incredulously, he was already pulling away from her, grabbing the Zabrak that reached him first in a headlock and flipping him into the stands next to the other guard with such force that the wooden benches splintered. He pulled the vibro-blade out from his boot, stabbing it into the human’s heart next before yanking it out and then throwing it straight into the abdomen of the Zabrak behind the human as they both collapsed on the spot.

“You can’t just say things like that, there’s a _child_ present,” Sari scolded sharply once Din retrieved his vibro-blade again and turned back to her innocently, as if he hadn’t just taken three skilled fighters out with incredible ease.

“He’s in his pod, he can’t hear us,” he dismissed before his helmet lifted to a point over her shoulder. “Our guy’s making a run for it.” She glanced behind her to see the edge of Koresh’s white suit vanishing through the back door. “Go check on the kid, I’ll go after him.” Din didn’t bother giving her a chance to argue as he sheathed the vibro-blade in his boot again before taking off after the retreating Abyssin.

Sari rolled her eyes before heading for Grogu’s abandoned pod, tapping the button on the front gently to open it again.

“Mweh?” Grogu greeted her worriedly, his large eyes scanning her for any injuries.

“I'm fine, bud,” she soothed him. “Come on, let’s go find your dad.”

“Boo-ee,” he agreed solemnly. He only seemed to be able to say buir once in a while if he really concentrated on getting his tiny mouth to form the syllables, but Sari found the mangled version of the word endearing in its own way as she gently tugged the pod along beside her out into the cool night air.

By the time they caught up with Din, he had Gor Koresh strung up on a street lamp with his whipcord, the Abyssin dangling upside down and flailing desperately. His eye darted around anxiously at the red-eyed creatures gathering at the edge of the circle of light, eager at the possibility of fresh meat.

“Fine, alright, stop, I’ll tell you where he is,” he gasped as Din hauled him up by the lapel. “But you must give me your word that you won’t kill me.”

“I promise you will not die by my hand,” Din agreed dryly.

“Or hers,” Gor Koresh added suspiciously, his eye darting behind Din to rest on Sari as she and Grogu reached them.

“Nah, you’re safe from me, buddy,” she reassured the Abyssin.

“Where is this Mandalorian you saw?” Din demanded, shaking Koresh again by the front of his suit jacket.

“Tatooine,” Koresh confessed, “The Mando I know of is on Tatooine.”

“That’s impossible, we were just on Tatooine a couple of months ago,” Sari pointed out, frowning. “We would’ve heard about another Mandalorian there.”

“I’m telling you, my information’s good!” Koresh protested. “The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the Gotra!”

Sari wasn’t sure what the Gotra was, but it seemed legitimate enough that Din tied off the cord keeping Koresh in place and tilted his head for Sari to join him, tapping his wrist gauntlet for Grogu’s pod to follow them again.

“Tatooine it is, then?” she guessed as she fell into step beside her partner.

“Tatooine,” he confirmed with a nod.

“Hey, wait!” Koresh called frantically behind them. “You can’t leave me like this! Cut me down, Mando!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Din said casually as he drew his blaster, turning briefly to fire it at the street lamp Koresh was hanging from once they were within the safety of another street lamp before holstering the gun again and continuing to walk away.

“Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?” Sari asked him under her breath, not daring to turn around despite Koresh’s screaming protests that he could pay them handsomely if they freed him, which quickly turned into shrieks of agony as the red-eyed creatures descended on him.

“If he’d wanted mercy, then he should have reconsidered throwing my clanmate into a fighting pit.” Din’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her into his side protectively, and she couldn’t help but relax into his hold, nestling her head against his shoulder.

“I had it under control,” she pointed out.

“I know you did, verd’ika.” She felt his forehead press against her hair briefly. “That means ‘private’ by rank, by the way,” he added for her benefit. “It’s also the affectionate way of calling someone a ‘little soldier.’”

“I don’t know whether that’s flattering or condescending,” Sari mused and felt Din’s helmet bump gently against the top of her head again, this time with a soft chuckle meant only for her ears.

“Depends on the context, but I meant it as a compliment. You fought well.”

She flushed at the praise and tilted her head up to give him a proper mirshmure’cya in return.

“Boo-ee,” Grogu gurgled again from his hover-pod, his eyes crinkled in a bright smile, and Sari wasn’t sure which one of them he had been addressing even as she smiled back down at him fondly.

“We’ll have to improve your vocabulary if you’re gonna keep being this chatty, kiddo.”

Grogu blew a cheeky raspberry back at her, still grinning widely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Ni ceta: literally 'I kneel'; a rare groveling apology  
> Cyar’ika: darling; sweetheart  
> Mesh’la: beautiful  
> Ni be’gar, baar bal runi: I am yours, body and soul  
> Gar’ner: you are mine  
> Kar’ta’ner: my heart; literally 'heart of mine'  
> Mirshmure’cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Verd’ika: Little soldier; private-ranking soldier, based on context
> 
> I couldn't have my babies fighting for long, you guys, I love them too much ;A; so y'all get a nice soft/spicy scene before we jump back into canon again lol.
> 
> I took some liberties with the idea that Gor Koresh was based out of another city on Cantonica (I made up the city name Canto Mercen) because as far as I know, the show never actually stated where they were at the beginning of 2x01 and every source I found only described the place as an urban city.
> 
> Also, changing subjects real quick to [the poll about Sari's lightsaber color](https://forms.gle/hNgPJWtXui9wqhMAA) \- y'all are really thirsty for that white lightsaber to parallel the Darksaber, aren't you? lmao the poll results are currently split 50-50 between white and basically every other color listed (and some that others have suggested), but the only reason I'm hesitating to choose white is that Ahsoka's lightsabers are also white and I didn't want to tread on her toes lol.
> 
> I actually have potential character-development reasons in mind already for making Sari's lightsaber either white or indigo (which is second behind white in the poll at the moment) but I just want to see if there's another reason everyone's voting for white other than "it'll look cool compared to the Darksaber," so if you guys voted white, let me know why in the comments sometime!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Din needs to learn to take better care of himself.

“Mos Eisley Tower, this is Razor Crest requesting a landing in Bay 3-5 if it’s open,” Sari said into the comms unit.

“This is Mos Eisley Tower, we’re tracking you,” the comms crackled after a moment, “Please proceed to Bay 3-5.”

“Copy that.” Sari hung up the comms unit just before Grogu could grab it out of her hands. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she scolded as his ears drooped in dismay. “You’ve got at least one actual toy downstairs and a shift knob you could be playing with.”

“Don’t encourage him to play with the shift knob,” Din protested even as Grogu reached for the shift stick eagerly, his fingers flexing in an attempt to grab the silver knob off the end.

“It’s too late to persuade him away from it,” Sari pointed out wryly. “I’m picking my battles here, it’s either the shift knob or the comms.”

Din huffed slightly, but she watched with a twinge of satisfaction as he reached for the gear shift, unscrewing the attached knob and pressing it gently into the child’s waiting hands. Grogu promptly turned around in Sari’s arms, presenting the shift knob to her.

“Bwah,” he told her proudly.

“Yes, that _is_ the shift knob,” she agreed, bewildered.

Grogu let out a frustrated exhale through his nose, holding the shift knob out insistently. Warily, Sari took it from him and promptly jumped in surprise as the shift knob zoomed right back into Grogu’s waiting hand. He let out a peal of laughter at the sour look on her face even as she shook her head.

“Very funny, kid, you’re a real prankster.”

“Did he scare you again?” Din’s helmet angled briefly towards them before focusing back ahead on the approaching surface of Tatooine as he prepared to land the Razor Crest. “Must be the third time today he’s used his powers around you,” he added, referring to the same stunt Grogu had pulled using his stuffed mudhorn toy twice earlier that day. “Maybe he’s hinting at something.”

“Or maybe he’s being a little brat,” Sari pointed out dryly.

Grogu scowled back at her, insulted, before unceremoniously dropping the shift knob into her lap. She scooped it up cautiously, half-expecting him to snatch it back using the Force, but he took it in his tiny hand instead and held it back out to her.

“I don’t know what you want from me, bud,” she told him wryly.

“He might want you to try taking it back from him,” Din suggested without taking his gaze off the approaching hangar below. “With the Force, I mean.”

“Is this the Jedi version of playing catch?” Sari complained goodnaturedly, earning a distracted snort of amusement from her partner even as Grogu pressed the ball towards her yet again. “I can’t move stuff with my mind like you can,” she told the child wearily. “I have no idea how I could when I was a kid, but that’s all gone now.”

Grogu whined insistently and Sari gave up protesting as she lifted her hand in an imitation of what she had seen Grogu do, but the silver ball refused to zoom into her fingers no matter how much she concentrated on it. She decided to stop before she accidentally gave herself a headache.

“Nothing?” Din guessed as the Razor Crest landed, powering down the engines, and Sari shook her head before taking the shift knob physically from a disappointed Grogu and passing it to Din so that he could return it to its place on the control panel.

“Nope. Maybe telepathy is all I can do these days.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, but his visor turned on her and remained fixed there as she strapped Grogu into his baby carrier and slung it onto her shoulders.

“Either you _still_ think I’m crazy even after seeing the Force at work multiple times or you think I look nice today and I can’t tell which it is,” she deadpanned.

“The latter’s always the case, mesh’la.” Din reached out, tucking a stray curl that had escaped her loose ponytail behind her ear, and she felt her cheeks warm. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” she confirmed, climbing to her feet as he did the same.

“‘Lek!” Grogu added, eager to show off the new word she had secretly taught him earlier in Mando’a, and she watched as Din froze, startled, before impulsively leaning down to press a mirshmure’cya gently to the child’s forehead.

“Gar serim,” he praised the child, who burbled back at him delightedly and patted the side of his helmet in return. “Did you teach him that?” Din added to Sari once he straightened, pressing another Keldabe kiss to her forehead briefly next before heading for the ladder.

“Yeah, I figured it was an easy word for him to pick up,” she admitted as she followed him down the ladder and towards the lowering ramp. “Besides, now it means we don’t have to try to guess whether he’s agreeing with us or not.”

“Hey, get back here!” Peli Motto’s loud scolding reached them as they descended the ramp. She had her hands on her hips, glowering at the pit droids who had begun to approach the side of the Razor Crest with their tools in hand. “You know he doesn’t trust droids!”

“May as well let them have at it,” Din reassured her and even Sari’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead to match the surprise on Peli’s face. “The Crest could use a good once-over.”

“Oh, so he likes droids now?” Peli glanced warily at Sari, who shrugged briefly to indicate her own confusion, before gesturing for her pit droids to go ahead. “Alright, you heard him, give it a once-over. And look at _you_ , Bright Eyes!” She grinned broadly as she turned back to Sari, her gaze immediately dropping to the child strapped into the carrier on her front. “Oh, thank the _Force_ , this little womp-rat had me worried sick!”

“As well he should, he’s still causing trouble everywhere we go,” Sari deadpanned as she untangled Grogu from the carrier, passing him over to Peli as he chirped with excitement and reached for Peli’s messy hair.

“Ha, looks like he remembers me,” Peli said delightedly, bouncing Grogu gently in her arms. “How much do you want for him?” When Din’s helmet swiveled sharply towards her, she added hastily, “Just kidding.” She turned to Sari again, lowering her voice to a stage-whisper. “But not really.”

Sari snorted with laughter despite herself. “Our kid’s not for sale, Peli.”

“Yeah, well, if he ever divides or buds, I’ll gladly pay for the offspring.” Peli winked before reluctantly passing Grogu back when Sari pointedly held her hands out for him. She settled the child back in the baby carrier as he wriggled in her grasp, attempting to free himself again.

“We’re here on business,” Din said to Peli, “And we need your help.”

“Oh, then business you shall have.” Peli grinned. “You want me to watch the little wrinkled critter while you seek out adventure again? Sari, are you setting up your art stuff in town this time, too?”

“Actually, we’re all going together,” Sari corrected, “We’re trying to find Grogu’s people.”

Peli raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say I’ve seen anything like him here in Mos Eisley, and you know we get people from all walks of life here.”

“A Mandalorian armorer has set us on our quest,” Din clarified. “If we can locate another of my kind, we can chart a path through the network of coverts. We were told there was another Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo.”

“You’re the only Mando who’s been here in years, as far as I can tell,” Peli informed him, “And Mos Pelgo, well. I haven’t heard that name in a while.”

“We didn’t see the town on any maps of Tatooine,” Sari admitted, “That’s why we were hoping you’d know where it was.”

“It got wiped out by bandits,” Peli told her, “Once the Empire fell, it was a free-for-all. I didn’t dare leave Mos Eisley’s walls. Still don’t.”

Privately, Sari thought that was for the best considering how treacherous Tatooine’s deserts could be even as Din asked, “Can you tell us where Mos Pelgo used to be? We might find something in what’s left of the place.”

“Well, let’s see.” Peli waved them over to the shade beside her office and out of the harsh twin suns in the pale blue sky above. “R5!” she snapped at a droid nearby. “Bring the map of Tatooine!”

The R5-D4 unit that had been dormant in the corner until that point whirred to life, trundling over to them slowly and beeping with each step. Sari could see sparks at the back of its head and wondered absently if there was some way she could repair it with the spare parts laying around the hangar.

“No, by all means, take your time, it’s not like the guy’s covered in metal armor that’s probably cooking him alive in all this heat,” Peli deadpanned to the droid.

“I’m fine,” Din insisted, but Sari couldn’t miss the hint of surprised flattery in his voice even as she impulsively slipped her hand into his gloved one to subtly check his temperature. He ran so warm even on the cooler planets that they had visited that she could usually feel it through the leather.

His palm practically burned against her hand now as his fingers curled instinctively around hers, and she wondered how he avoided heatstroke if he visited Tatooine as often as he had claimed he had. Knowing him as well as she did now, she assumed he just suffered through it silently and made a note to herself to keep an eye on him as the R5-D4 unit finally stopped in front of them and opened a holographic map of Tatooine.

“Here we go,” Peli said with relief as she began to maneuver the map around. “This is a map of Tatooine before the war. Here we are in Mos Eisley.” She tapped the circular town on the map. “Then there’s Mos Espa over here.” She scrolled west to another town, slightly smaller than Mos Eisley in size. “And all the way up here in this region-” She scrolled north past the Dune Sea. “Mos Pelgo.” She pointed at a blank spot that Sari had assumed to be part of the desert.

“I don’t see anything,” Din pointed out.

“Well, it’s there,” Peli insisted, “Or it used to be, anyway. Not much to speak of. It’s an old mining settlement.” She cast a skeptical look over her shoulder at the Razor Crest. “They’re gonna see that giant hunk of metal long before you land.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have some speeder bikes on hand?” Sari asked and Peli grinned.

“Sure do. They might be rusty, but they work.”

Sari glanced up at Din, who nodded briefly in approval of the plan, before turning back to Peli. “Great, we’ll take them, then.”

“Alright, you heard the lady,” Peli told R5-D4, who snapped to attention sluggishly as the holographic map of Tatooine faded away. “Go grab the speeder bikes from storage, on the double.” She watched the droid trudge away, barely letting it get a few feet away before giving up with an eye-roll. “Oh, never mind, I’m faster than that thing, anyway. You two sit tight, I’ll be back with those bikes for ya.” She headed off after the droid towards the storage unit attached to the hangar.

“We’ll need to stop for the night halfway if we’re going that far north,” Din pointed out and Sari shrugged.

“We can grab any supplies we might need in town on our way out, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“This might lead nowhere,” he added. “You sure about making such a journey for potentially nothing?”

“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” she reminded him. “And if it brings us closer to finding other Mandalorians, the trip’s worth it.”

Some of the tension bled out of his shoulders as he ducked his head to nudge his forehead briefly against hers. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for.” She pressed her lips briefly to the curve of his helmet where his cheek was in return.

* * *

The only thing Sari could hear over the sounds of the speeder bikes zooming across the desert was Grogu’s loud squeals of delight as he hung from his baby carrier attached to the side of her seat, his head leaning out and his ears flapping in the wind. She glanced down at him briefly to make sure he was safe, but he seemed to be securely strapped into his carrier, his eyes crinkling up at her with delight.

She grinned back at him fondly, but belatedly remembered that he couldn’t see her face due to the thin cloth scarf covering her mouth and nose and the goggles over her eyes to protect her from the flying sand around them. She settled for reaching down and stroking his little head with one finger instead before glancing briefly at Din’s speeder bike beside her.

He kept his visor forward as they drove over the sand dunes, the setting twin suns of Tatooine glinting off his beskar armor in a way that might have blinded Sari if it hadn’t been for the tinted lenses of her goggles, but turned his helmet in her direction when he finally sensed her gaze on him.

Lifting one hand, she signed briefly, _Do you want to stop?_

He shook his head, signing back, _I’m okay._

She knew for a fact he hadn’t had any water or food since before they had landed on Tatooine that morning, and it was approaching the early evening already. She and Grogu had at least been sipping once in a while from her canteen as they drove, but she doubted Din had bothered to lift his helmet long enough to drink from his own canteen while operating the speeder bike.

She pulled her bike to a stop and tugged down her scarf, pushing her goggles up into her hair. Noticing her halt, Din did the same, tilting his helmet worriedly as he climbed off his speeder bike.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, his voice rough and cracking slightly before he coughed to clear his likely dry throat.

“ _That’s_ what’s wrong.” She crossed the distance to his speeder bike and grabbed his canteen from the attached pack of supplies, pressing it into his gloved hands unceremoniously as he fumbled with it, startled. “Drink some water, you haven’t had any since before we landed in Mos Eisley.”

She could sense more than see his eye-roll as he uncapped the canteen. “I’m _fine_ , Sari. I’ve gone longer without.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have to.” She turned her back pointedly on him, shielding Grogu’s eyes by standing directly in the child’s line of sight and pretending to check the straps on his carrier while Din tilted his helmet up just enough to take a gulp of water from his canteen.

“Boo-ee,” Grogu whined, attempting to peek around her.

“Yes, I’m well aware of how stupid your buir is being,” she told him dryly, nudging his head gently back towards her so that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the Mandalorian’s face.

“Hey,” Din spluttered indignantly on his next sip of water and she heard the soft hiss of his helmet sliding back down.

“I said what I said, and I’ll call you much worse if you go this long without water in a literal desert again,” she threatened lightly over her shoulder, taking a sip of water from her own canteen and swallowing before adding, “We’re setting up camp once it gets dark and I don’t want to hear any arguments when we do.”

She fed Grogu a few sips of water as well before placing her canteen back inside her supply pack. She prepared to climb back onto the speeder bike, but jumped slightly in surprise when Din’s arms slid around her waist from behind to pull her into a tight embrace before she could; the sand had muffled his approaching footsteps.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he murmured fondly as his visor pressed into her hair. To her relief, his voice sounded somewhat less scratchy and hoarse; their water break had clearly been very much needed.

“Yeah, yeah, love you, too, you dumb martyr,” she grumbled goodnaturedly, unable to help but melt back against his chest. His armor was searingly hot even through the back of her sweat-soaked shirt.

“Boo-ee,” Grogu chirped again eagerly, his tiny arms extending towards Sari, and she untangled him from the carrier carefully, turning in Din’s embrace and settling the child between the two of them as Din nestled his helmet against the top of her head.

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. I’m still not used to someone fussing over me like this.”

“Well, you’d better get used to it fast.” She slid her free arm around him to press her hand against the small of his back. “You’re no good to us exhausted and dehydrated, Din.”

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised.

“Peli might have been right about you cooking alive, too, your armor’s burning up,” she added, nudging her nose against his chin to subtly make sure his skin wasn’t dangerously warm underneath all the layers he wore. To her dismay, his skin felt feverish against hers. “Any signs of heatstroke?”

“I’ll be fine once the suns go down,” he insisted. “Shouldn’t be too long now.”

“So that’s a ‘yes’ on the heatstroke?” She pulled back to frown at his visor disapprovingly. “You _do_ know that kills people, right?”

“In my defense, it’s only a headache right now,” he reassured her. “It usually takes a couple more hours for it to turn into full-blown heatstroke, and by then it’ll be dark.”

“And how exactly do you know that?” She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.

“I’ve spent enough time on Tatooine that it’s happened a few times.”

“What’s that one word you taught me the other day - jare’la? That’s what you are,” she told him sharply. “It’s a miracle you made it to the age of forty.”

“Hey,” he protested again faintly, but didn’t offer a better rebuttal than that as she rolled her eyes.

“Just drink some more water before we get going again. And before you tell me you’re fine, that was an order, not a request.”

He sighed heavily, but reluctantly agreed, “Yeah, okay.”

“Eh?” Grogu reached up tentatively, brushing his tiny fingers against the underside of Din’s jaw, and the Mandalorian jerked in surprise at the touch.

“He’s worried about your headache and wants to try and heal it,” Sari translated for the child, cracking a wry smile. “See? Not just me who fusses.”

“I’m alright, ad’ika,” Din reassured Grogu. “Save your energy.”

Grogu huffed back at him, unconvinced, but obediently subsided, pressing his face into Sari’s shoulder and yawning; the arid climate seemed to leave him somewhat lethargic, since he had already napped twice sporadically during their journey so far.

“I really _am_ alright, Sari,” Din insisted, but when she narrowed her eyes skeptically back at him, he conceded, “But I’ll take better care of myself.”

“Good.” She leaned up to kiss the underside of his jaw gently. “Go drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighed long-sufferingly as he turned to head back to his speeder-bike, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

She turned away to give him privacy while he opened his canteen again to take another gulp of water, setting Grogu back into his carrier and strapping him in with a brief kiss to the top of his head as he blinked blearily back at her.

“Bwah,” he told her around another yawn.

“Yeah, I don’t like the heat, either,” she agreed. “But it’ll get cooler once the suns go down, don’t worry.”

* * *

“Why am I only _just_ learning that you speak Tusken?” Sari demanded when Din and the Tusken raiders around them took a break from their conversation consisting of hoarse grunts and growls and unfamiliar sign language to accompany the sounds.

“Now you know how I feel when you bring a new skill out, Miss ‘Jack of Several Trades,’” he informed her, clearly a little smug at having surprised her.

They had stopped for the night shortly after the suns had set when the group of Tuskens had approached them, offering their encampment as a place to stay for the night in exchange for stories from the Mandalorian they had heard of on his previous visits to Tatooine, which was how Sari had realized two things:

1) Tusken sign language wasn’t even remotely similar to the Basic signs she used, which left her without any way of communicating with them.

2) Her partner was somehow ridiculously talented at _everything_.

She shifted to sprawl out comfortably with her back against Din’s side now as Grogu clambered up into her lap, chewing on a thick tan-colored biscuit that one of the female Tuskens had given him; Sari assumed it was some kind of cookie because several of the children she had seen running around the encampment also had similar biscuits clutched in their hands.

“Turnabout is fair play, I guess. Fine, have fun with your conversation I can’t keep up with. Grogu and I will just have to have our own secret conversation in our heads. Isn’t that right, baby?” she added to the child in her lap with a fond smile.

“Patu,” Grogu said seriously in response, holding out a small piece of biscuit as an offering.

“That’s not a new word you’re teaching him, is it?” Sari accused over her shoulder as she took the biscuit piece from the child. It was blandly sweet, but pleasant enough to nibble on.

“It’s not, he’s just making noise,” Din reassured her.

The Tusken beside him grunted something that sounded vaguely like a question and Sari heard a brief strangled sound escape Din’s throat before he stifled it in time.

“What did he say?” she asked, bewildered.

“He, uh, says you’re very beautiful and wants to know if you’re available,” he translated tersely and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, are you going to tell him I’m not?”

He stared down at her, his visor inscrutable. “Do you want me to?”

“You’re ridiculous. Just tell him I’m flattered, but happily taken,” she told him and the tension seeped out of his shoulders as he turned to the Tusken and responded in a hacking growl.

“Happily, huh?” he added over his shoulder, a tentative smile in his voice.

Rolling her eyes fondly, she purposely leaned up to press a kiss against the stubbled underside of his jaw. His skin was cooler beneath her lips than it had been earlier that day, much to her relief; the last thing they needed was Din suffering from heatstroke due to his own recklessness.

“Very. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never,” he promised solemnly, leaning down to press a mirshmure’cya against her forehead before turning back to the Tuskens around him to resume their conversation.

Between the cool night air in contrast to the harsh heat of daytime and the comforting crackle of the campfire they sat near, Sari wasn’t surprised at all when Grogu dozed off in her lap the moment he finished his cookie, his tiny head pillowed against her stomach and his fingers tangled loosely in the material of her shirt. His soft, breathy snores made her smile as she brushed a finger gently over the top of his head and allowed her eyes to slip shut briefly to rest them as well, exhausted from their long journey across the desert so far.

When she felt a pair of arms slide around her and scoop her up carefully - one under her back and one under her knees - she stirred from the doze she had accidentally fallen into and almost immediately felt the familiar nudge of Din’s helmet against her forehead.

“Shh, it’s just me,” he said under his breath so that only she could hear, his thumb brushing over her spine briefly. “Go back to sleep, I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Grogu?” she mumbled around a yawn.

“Asleep on top of you,” Din answered.

Sari reached up blindly, feeling for the sleeping child nestled between her abdomen and Din’s chest before relaxing marginally once she made sure Grogu was secure between them. Din placed them gingerly on one of the sleeping pallets that the Tuskens had provided them before taking a seat beside them on the second pallet, tilting his head back against the rocky outcropping they were settled near.

“Are _you_ going to sleep?” she asked, shuffling to nestle her cheek against the thigh guard he wore; she’d slept against Din’s armor so often by now that she was used to the cold press of beskar against her skin.

“In a bit,” he promised as his fingers brushed through her hair, gently sliding the elastic band tying it into a ponytail out and placing it on her wrist for her. “Sleep, mesh’la.”

“Mm. Love you.” She obediently let her eyes fall shut, but it hardly felt like a few minutes had passed before she was roused awake again by the familiar sound of Grogu calling for either her or Din - she still couldn’t quite tell since the word technically referred to both of them.

“Boo-ee,” he whined, but she couldn’t quite muster the energy to open her eyes.

“Let your buir sleep,” Din scolded quietly above her, clearly addressing the child. “She needs her rest after fussing over the two of us all day.”

Grogu blew a sulky raspberry at him in response before retorting, “Feh.”

“Yeah, I know. She’s missing a pretty good light show,” Din agreed. “But we’ll show her a meteor shower another time. Maybe when she has her art stuff with her - I bet she’d like to draw it.”

Sari did her best not to move and alert Din that she was awake as she cracked her eyes partly open to peer muzzily up at the night sky. The moon had risen higher - a few hours had passed rather than a few minutes, as she had originally thought - and hundreds of white streaks of light were shooting across the dark expanse, illuminating the dark desert around them.

She could see Grogu cradled in Din’s arms above her, both of their faces turned skyward to watch the meteor shower, and couldn’t help but admire the shooting stars reflected in the darkened visor of Din’s helmet and Grogu’s wide, fascinated eyes. It was probably the most beautiful sight she had ever witnessed in her life, and she resolved to memorize it and capture it on paper when they returned to the Razor Crest; maybe it would make a decent gift for Din’s birthday in four months if she didn’t come up with a better present before then.

“She loves you a hell of a lot, you know. I think she has since the day we found you, even if she didn’t know it yet,” he said quietly to Grogu, not looking away from the meteor-streaked sky above them. “I don’t know how she’s going to take it when you go back to your people. It’s probably going to break her heart.”

Sari ignored the lump in her throat at the reminder that they would have to give up the child she had come to consider theirs in the likely near future, shutting her eyes again just in case Din glanced down and caught her awake. Grogu burbled an incomprehensible response and Sari could hear the soft thumps of his tiny palm patting the side of Din’s helmet as the Mandalorian let out a weary sigh through his nose.

“The Jedi are your kind - you belong with them. And now that we know Sari’s like you, she probably does, too. Maybe...maybe it’s best that she goes with you when we find them. That’d be good, right? You’d get to stay together, keep each other safe. She wouldn’t have to let you go.”

 _And what about_ you _, Din?_ Sari wanted to ask, but her vocal cords refused to work as Grogu whimpered, the same question clearly on his mind.

“I’ll be fine.” Din sounded like he was convincing himself more than the child in his arms. “I always am. As long as you two are safe and happy - even if it’s without me - then that’s enough.”

Sari’s throat felt painfully tight as she dared to steal another peek up at him. His helmet was still tilted up towards the sky, but the stars reflected in his visor were now stationary and faint with how distant they were; the meteor shower had ended. Finally, he glanced down at Grogu, who was still peering up at him worriedly.

“Alright, show’s over. Go back to sleep now, kid.” Sari hurriedly shut her eyes again as he settled Grogu beside her, tucking the child carefully into her side. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

Grogu settled in at Sari’s side with a squeaky yawn, but she couldn’t miss the wave of anxious uncertainty that washed over the child as he curled up beside her to go back to sleep.

After a long moment, she felt Din shift slightly above her, his helmet lifting slightly with a familiar quiet hiss as he leaned down until his lips pressed carefully against her forehead. Before she could take the opportunity to pretend to wake up and confront him, he was pulling back again, his helmet sliding back down as he settled against the rocky outcropping behind them.

His fingers carded through her loose hair slowly and she reluctantly relented to the siren call of sleep once more, too warm and comfortable against him to begin considering the distant possibility of leaving him anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful  
> 'Lek: yeah; slang form of 'elek' or yes  
> Mirshmure'cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Gar serim: you're right; that's it  
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you; literally 'I hold you in my heart eternally'  
> Jare'la: stupidly oblivious of danger; reckless  
> Ad'ika: little one; child
> 
> Honestly, I just wanted an excuse to make this episode's events all about Din just not bothering to look after himself while Sari's rolling her eyes in the background and fussing over him lol and also yay the brief return of jealous!Din :D
> 
> I apologize in advance if updates are a little slow from here on out, but I'm kind of suffering from real life getting in the way and I want some time to fill out my drafts (I literally only have one more chapter written out after this one and I need to have more before I continue posting), but I'll definitely still keep trying to post semi-regularly!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari is not even remotely putting up with in-fighting.

Mos Pelgo wasn’t quite a ghost town, but it was at least close to becoming one. As Sari and Din pulled their speeder bikes to a halt outside the run-down cantina, she glanced around and took in the scarce number of people ducking out of sight into their tiny homes, the single street that led through the settlement ominously empty.

“Mweh?” Grogu wiggled hopefully as Sari picked his carrier up, slinging it onto one shoulder so that he hung at her hip before tugging down her scarf and pushing her goggles up into her hair.

“Nope, no stretching your legs out here,” she warned the whining child, “You might sink into the ground.”

“He’d be buried in sand the moment a light breeze blows through,” Din agreed, his helmet turning briefly to take in the villagers staring at them suspiciously from all corners of the town before he headed into the cantina. Shifting the carrier on her shoulder, Sari followed him inside.

The cantina was empty apart from a Weequay bartender polishing a glass silently behind the counter. He glanced up at the sound of their footsteps as they entered, tilting his head curiously.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for a Mandalorian,” Din said, stopping at the counter.

“We don’t get many visitors in these parts,” the bartender admitted, “Can you describe him?”

“Someone who looks like me,” Din supplied tersely.

“You mean the marshal?” The bartender’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Your marshal wears Mandalorian armor?” Sari could hear the bewilderment in Din’s voice, subtle as it was.

“See for yourself.” The bartender’s eyes drifted behind them and they turned to find a Mandalorian in the doorway.

His armor was old, its green paint chipped and the metal dented with years of use, but it was unmistakably made of beskar. A small eyepiece was attached to his helmet, sticking up like a tiny antenna, and Sari recalled that she had seen some other helmets like that in the pile of armor left behind in the covert on Nevarro; she suspected it was some kind of scope.

An odd object hung from his belt that didn’t seem to belong to the set of beskar armor; it vaguely resembled the hilt of one of her hooked blades, except it was silver and cylindrical in design with an empty socket in the top where the actual blade should have been.

“What brings you here, strangers?” he asked as he entered the cantina, his helmet swiveling between Din and Sari slowly to take them in. His voice had a drawl to it, casual and rugged even through the modulator built into the helmet.

“We’ve been searching for you for many parsecs now,” Din answered stiffly.

“Well, now you found me. Weequay, three snorts of spotchka.” The marshal accepted the three tin cups and the large flagon of spotchka that the bartender set out, carrying them over to a table. “Why don’t you two join me for a drink?”

As he sat down, Sari wondered how he planned to drink the spotchka or expected Din to with their helmets, but then the marshal answered that question by sliding his helmet off, revealing a smirking middle-aged bearded man with silvery-blonde hair. He reminded her oddly of Kal; the only real differences between them were perhaps a few years in age, the eye color, and the facial hair.

“I feel like I ought to be scandalized on your behalf, Mando,” she joked to lighten the sudden tension in the room when she realized Din was bristling in silent anger beside her. He didn’t respond, his visor fixed disapprovingly on the marshal in front of them.

“I’ve never met a real Mandalorian,” the marshal admitted as he poured spotchka into the cups in front of him. “Heard stories. I know you’re good at killing, and probably none too happy to see me wearing this hardware. So I figure only one of us is walking out of here alive.”

His dark eyes roamed over Sari briefly before dropping down to the child hanging from the carrier at her hip, who was looking around the cantina curiously and burbling quietly to himself.

“But then I see the eye-candy and the little guy you’ve got with you and I think maybe I pegged you wrong,” the marshal added with a wry smile.

Din’s spine had gone ramrod-straight beside Sari and she imagined his jaw was clenched beneath his helmet even as she snorted briefly with laughter.

“Eye-candy? Buddy, I’m flattered, but _that’s_ hardly true.”

“I call it like I see it, doll.” The marshal glanced her over again, this time far more appreciatively. “And I like what I see.”

“My partner is literally right next to me,” she informed him dryly and he shrugged easily.

“Ah, well. Can’t blame a fella for trying.”

“Who are you?” Din demanded roughly.

“I’m Cobb Vanth,” the marshal offered, “Marshal of Mos Pelgo.”

“Where did you get the armor?” Din pressed.

“Bought it off some Jawas.” Cobb Vanth shrugged one shoulder again.

“Hand it over,” Din said sharply.

“Look, pal, I’m sure you call the shots where you come from, but around here, I’m the one who tells folks what to do.” Vanth leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table.

“Take it off,” Din insisted, taking a menacing step forward. “Or I will.”

Sari caught his arm in a silent warning, but he shrugged her off just as quickly. She didn’t blame him; someone appropriating his people’s armor didn’t sit well with her, either, no matter how friendly he seemed.

“We gonna do this in front of your girl and the kid?” Vanth shot a wary glance at Sari and then at Grogu, who cooed back at him.

“They’ve seen worse,” Din dismissed.

“We really have,” Sari reassured Vanth, whose eyebrows had shot up in alarm. “And done worse, too, trust me.”

“Bleh,” Grogu protested at her side, pushing a silent _Speak for yourself_ into her head.

She rolled her eyes back down at the child, reminding him silently that _she_ remembered him attempting to Force-choke Cara even if he didn’t. He squeaked guiltily, caught red-handed, and she cracked a grin, ruffling his wispy hair affectionately even as Vanth sighed heavily and turned back to Din.

“Right here, then?”

“Right here,” Din confirmed.

“Okay, well, you two have fun measuring, we’re gonna go wait by the bikes,” Sari said with a goodnatured roll of her eyes before heading out of the cantina. As she left, she shared a brief commiserating look with the wide-eyed bartender, who was watching the stand-off taking place behind her anxiously.

Grogu cooed worriedly as they left the cantina, his fingers twisting into Sari’s shirt as he peered up at her. “Eh?”

“I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again, kiddo,” she told him as she lifted the carrier to her eye level, leaning on the wall of the cantina. “There’s nothing you can do about stubborn men.”

Grogu burbled back at her in solemn agreement, patting her cheek sympathetically, and she tilted her head to press a kiss to his tiny palm with a faint smile.

“Thanks, bud, that makes me feel better.”

She listened for the sounds of scuffling or laser blasts behind her - any sign that she needed to return to Din’s side and intervene, all jokes she had made aside - but the cantina was silent and after a moment, she realized why: the ground had begun to rumble beneath her feet, the earth rolling in waves that made her stumble back against the wall in an attempt to stay upright.

Grogu clutched her shirt fearfully and she held him tightly with one arm even as she reached for the handles of the speeder bikes to pull them up onto the wooden platform so that they were safe from whatever was causing the earthquake.

An alarm began to blare as the few villagers still lingering outside vanished into their houses. A bantha tethered to a pole outside the settlement began to bray anxiously as a massive mound of sand appeared on the horizon, slithering through the single street of the town and tossing sand everywhere as it went.

Sari ducked over Grogu instinctively to shield him from the spray of sand as he began to whimper, burying his face into her shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” she comforted the child as he huddled closer to her automatically.

“Sari?!” Din appeared in the doorway of the cantina, his helmet swiveling anxiously around to look for her, and she ducked under another deluge of sand to meet him at the doorway.

“We’re okay,” she reassured him, pressing into his side.

He let out a soft, barely audible breath of relief as he slid an arm around her waist to pull her closer protectively, his other hand pressing against Grogu’s back gingerly to soothe the child. Cobb Vanth appeared at his other side, his eyes narrowed at the underground creature as it made its way through the town towards the tethered bantha.

“What the hell _is_ that thing?” Sari asked, bewildered.

“Krayt dragon,” Vanth supplied tersely.

Together, they watched the krayt dragon rear up, revealing only its gargantuan head and long, sharp teeth as it devoured the frantic bantha in one bite and vanished back into the sand. Only the frayed end of the rope that had tied down the bantha was left behind as the mound of sand disappeared towards the desert mountains in the distance.

Slowly, the villagers began to filter back into the street, solemnly picking up the damaged planks of wood and mechanical parts that the krayt dragon had scattered in its wake. Vanth gestured for them to follow as he took off down the street to inspect the damage to the town himself.

Din’s arm briefly tightened around Sari’s waist before he released her reluctantly to fall into step beside Vanth. She followed them, rubbing Grogu’s back gently to calm him down before settling the carrier over both of her shoulders so that he could continue clinging to her front.

“That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established,” Vanth explained as they walked. “Thanks to this armor, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and the sand people. They look to me to protect ‘em. But a krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone.” He turned to Din. “Help me kill it, I’ll give you the armor.”

“Just like that?” Sari asked, startled, but Din seemed to be considering the offer. “We could ride back to the ship,” he suggested, his helmet tilting briefly towards her to gauge her response. “Blast it out of the sand from the sky with some bantha for bait.”

She shrugged in agreement, but Vanth shook his head. “Not that simple. It’ll sense the ship’s vibrations from above and stay underground. But I know where it lives.”

“How far?” Din asked and Vanth glanced grimly at the ridge of mountains the krayt dragon had disappeared into.

“Not far.”

* * *

Sari was really beginning to despise the amount of sand in her hair and clothing; she suspected she would be finding granules of the stuff everywhere for weeks after they were off-planet, no matter how thoroughly she washed her clothes.

It didn’t help that the moment her speeder bike fell behind Din’s bike or Cobb Vanth’s speeder - which looked like a repurposed pod racer’s engine - another deluge of sand threatened to cover her bike altogether. She was at least grateful that she had had the foresight to drape a cloth over Grogu’s head to shield him from the worst of the sand.

“You don’t know what it was like,” Vanth protested when he caught the continued disapproving looks Din aimed his way, clearly still upset about the armor he wore. “The town was on its last legs. It started after we got news of the Death Star blowing up - the second one, that is. The Empire was pulling outta Tatooine. There was blaster fire over Mos Eisley and the occupation was over.”

“A friend of ours in Mos Eisley mentioned that,” Sari remembered. “Tatooine became a free-for-all after the Empire left.”

Vanth nodded back to her in confirmation. “We didn’t even have time to celebrate. That very night, the Mining Collective moved in. Power hates a vacuum. Mos Pelgo became a slave camp overnight, so I lit out. Took what I could from the invaders, grabbed a camtono. I had no idea it was full of silicax crystals.”

Din remained silent, but Sari whistled under her breath, impressed. “Must’ve been worth a fortune, a whole camtono of them.”

Vanth grinned at her wryly. “Sure was. I guess every once in a while, both suns shine on a womp-rat’s tail. I wandered for days - no food, no water - and then I was saved by a Jawa sand-crawler. The Jawas wanted the crystals, and they offered their finest in exchange.” He patted his chest plate absently. “My treasure bought me more than a full waterskin. It bought my freedom.”

“Was that weapon on your belt part of the armor?” Din asked abruptly.

“This thing?” Vanth glanced down at the silver cylindrical object Sari had seen earlier hanging from his belt. “Yeah. Don’t even know what it is myself - whatever it is, it doesn’t work - but I figure if it was with the rest of the armor, it had to be something important. Looks like the handle of some kinda sword, don’t it?”

“It does,” Sari agreed pensively. She was unable to shake the feeling that she had somehow seen something like that sword hilt before, even though she was sure she actually hadn’t.

As they reached the shade of the mountain ridge, she was glad for the brief reprieve from the harsh twin suns above them, wiping her forehead with her sleeve as Vanth gestured for them to stop. All three of them pulled their speeders to a halt before he climbed down, drawing his blaster.

“Eh?” Grogu asked anxiously as Din followed Vanth’s lead.

“It’s alright, baby. Wait here,” Sari reassured him before setting off after Din, drawing her own blaster from her thigh holster.

She could hear the growls and screeches of some kind of animal echoing off the rocky walls around them and froze in place when a giant reptilian dog-like creature stalked out from behind the rock in front of them, its sharp teeth bared threateningly. Instinctively, she lifted her gun at the same time as Vanth to aim at the creature, but several more of the reptilian dogs made their way out from crevices in the rock, all growling deeply in the backs of their throats.

Din’s hand covered Sari’s suddenly, forcing her to lower her blaster as his fingers closed around her wrist and gently pressed down.

“Relax,” he told her before turning to the creatures approaching them, letting out a hoarse wordless call that she recognized as the Tusken language he had spoken the previous night. All of the reptilian dogs froze, their heads tilting curiously at Din in unison.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vanth demanded as Din released Sari’s wrist again, holstering his blaster and taking a few steps towards the nearest reptilian dog.

He said something else in Tusken that Sari couldn’t understand, but it seemed to make the creature happy as it bounded up to Din, its entire body wiggling with excitement as he knelt to its height and began to scratch under its chin.

“They’re massifs,” he explained over his shoulder, patting the creature’s side with his other hand, “They travel with Tuskens. Come here, Sari, it’s okay.”

Sari holstered her blaster as she inched closer warily and allowed Din to pull her hand towards the massif’s snout, letting it snuffle at her fingers and get her scent. She couldn’t help but laugh as the animal licked at her fingertips before it promptly shoved its head into her hand, eager for affection. It made her think vaguely of Cheeps as the massif’s tongue lolled out of its mouth with delight the moment she began to scratch the top of its scaly head gently.

She didn’t miss how Din’s helmet angled up towards her, watching her pet the massif silently with a relaxed set to his shoulders that made her think he was smiling behind his visor. The moment was gone in the next instant as his visor turned back to the desert in front of them, though, and Sari looked up to see several Tusken raiders approaching silently with their massifs in tow, as if they had materialized out of the sand in front of them.

Din climbed to his feet, his hands already moving in fluent Tusken sign language as he began to speak with them in their language, and Sari reluctantly patted the massif in front of her one last time before letting it run back to the Tusken it likely belonged to.

“Any chance you know what they’re talking about?” Cobb Vanth asked plaintively as she returned to him and the speeders to check on Grogu.

She shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine, I don’t speak Tusken.”

“Mweh?” Grogu said hopefully, holding his hands out to Sari, and she picked up the carrier to sling it over her shoulders so that he could cling to her shirt.

“Hey, you wanna tell us what’s going on?” Vanth called to Din, who turned to face them again.

“They want to kill the krayt dragon, too,” he explained. “They’d like us to stay the night in their encampment while we work out a plan.”

* * *

“Patu!” Grogu exclaimed happily as Sari handed him a piece of bread to nibble on, shoving a large bite into his mouth as he settled contentedly between her outstretched legs.

She had the child fenced in with her shins, but it hadn’t stopped him from attempting to make a valiant escape over her knees until Din had scolded him quietly in Mando’a to stay put before returning to his conversation with the Tusken raiders as they gathered around the campfire together.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that you two didn’t make that little gremlin,” Cobb Vanth joked dryly to Sari, finally tearing his suspicious gaze off the Tuskens and glancing down at Grogu with a small smile when the child waved his fistful of bread at the marshal to show off his prize; even he’d been won over by Grogu, much to Sari’s lack of surprise.

“Ha, no, definitely not.” She brushed her finger fondly over the top of the child’s head. “We’re just looking after him until we can find his people, that’s all.”

Grogu’s large eyes turned towards her and he let out a tentative, worried coo, his bread forgotten in the face of his concern.

“I know, bud,” she reassured him in response to his silent question if she had overheard his and Din’s conversation the previous night during the meteor shower. “Your buir and I will talk about it later, I promise.”

Grogu burbled in contentment at the reassurance, returning to gnawing on his piece of bread.

“What will his buire be talking about?” Din asked curiously, distracted from his conversation with the Tusken beside him.

His voice was low and husky from speaking so much all evening, especially in the rough cadence the Tusken language seemed to require, and it made her wish they were alone so that she could tilt his helmet up enough to kiss him.

“It can wait,” she reassured him, settling for nudging her shoulder against his gently instead.

He hummed quietly in assent, ducking his head briefly to press a mirshmure’cya to her forehead before turning back to the group of Tuskens as one of them grunted a question at him, growling a throaty response as his hands moved quickly to sign in tandem.

Another Tusken on Vanth’s other side held out a cracked black gourd to him and he took it warily, peering into the fruit and examining the murky liquid inside with distaste.

“What do I do with this?” he asked over Sari’s head to Din, who turned back to him before his helmet tilted downwards to the gourd.

“You drink it,” he supplied succinctly.

“It stinks,” Vanth complained.

“Do you want their help or not?” Din demanded wearily.

“Not if I have to drink this,” Vanth retorted.

“Oh, just be polite and take a sip or two, it obviously means a lot to them,” Sari said with a roll of her eyes.

She had been asked by the Tuskens to drink the same gourd water the previous night, and while her stomach had turned at the pungent smell and taste - and still did now as she caught the acrid scent of the gourd beside her - it had been more than worth it to see Din’s shoulders relax when the Tuskens had grunted their approval of her. He had luckily escaped the same fate by quoting his Creed as an excuse not to eat or drink in front of them.

“This is ridiculous, I’m not gonna-” Vanth began, holding the gourd away from himself, but the Tusken who had offered him the gourd began to screech, leaping to his feet and brandishing the gaffi stick he held in his other hand.

“He says your people steal their water and now you insult them by not drinking it,” Din translated grimly as Sari scooped Grogu up, hauling the child closer instinctively when he whimpered at the growing tension. “They know about Mos Pelgo. They know how many sand people you killed.”

“They raided our village! I defended the town!” Vanth protested.

“Lower your voice,” Din cautioned even as the Tusken began to roar back at Vanth, insulted.

“I knew this was a bad idea!” Vanth snapped back at Din, pushing himself to his feet and whirling on the Tusken as the other Tuskens began to shift uneasily, their chorus of hoarse screeches adding to the argument. “These monsters can’t be reasoned with and-!”

“ _Enough_!”

Sari didn’t even realize she had shouted until she realized the entire camp had frozen in place with their eyes fixed on her; her throat would likely feel the after-effects of raising her voice the next day. Everyone continued to stare at her as she climbed to her feet, balancing a startled Grogu on her hip.

“Translate, please,” she told Din shortly over her shoulder before turning back to Vanth, who gaped at her. “You’re _all_ being stupid and childish. Now you may have plenty of valid reasons on both sides to not trust each other, but the more you let your differences get in the way, the less likely it is that any of you will survive against the krayt dragon. It doesn’t care who’s on whose side, it’ll eat everything it comes across regardless.” She could hear Din translating her words gruffly behind her as she spoke. “So get your shit together, quit sniping at each other for now, and let’s focus on one problem at a time so we can come to a compromise all the faster. _Got it_?”

She narrowed her eyes first at Vanth, who swallowed and nodded so quickly that she was almost certain his head would fall off. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

When she turned her glare on the Tusken who had initiated the argument with Vanth next, he flinched - much to her secret amusement - before turning to Din and grunting a response.

“He says that he understands and that you’re terrifying when you’re angry,” Din translated wryly when Sari glanced over her shoulder expectantly.

“On that, at least, we can agree,” Vanth said, wide-eyed as he sank back down in front of the campfire. “How do you get to be that scary while holding a tiny goblin baby?”

“Well, it was either me yelling at you or waiting until Mando lost his patience and brought out his flamethrower,” Sari pointed out even as Grogu chirped indignantly in retaliation for being called a goblin. “I’m the lesser of two evils here.”

Din let out a brief amused exhale through his nose behind her. “I don’t know, you seem to have it handled just fine without me.”

When she looked back at him, he tilted his helmet to where the Tuskens had devolved into anxious muttering amongst themselves, glancing nervously at Sari as they spoke. Relieved, she settled back on the ground, leaning against her partner’s side and nestling Grogu against her shoulder when he whined up at her reproachfully.

“Aw, I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t mean to spook you,” she murmured fondly and he burbled reassuringly as he settled down against her, patting her cheek in easy forgiveness as she kissed his little palm in return.

“I think that was the first time I’ve ever heard you shout at anyone,” Din added above her, a broad grin audible in his voice as she felt his chin press against the top of her head. “Kandosii, verd’ika.”

“Next time, I’ll just let you use the flamethrower,” she answered dryly, allowing him to return his attention back to the negotiations with the visibly shaken Tuskens.

* * *

“How’s the kid doing?” Din asked and Sari glanced down at where the baby carrier hung from the side of the bantha they were riding on as the Tuskens led them and Cobb Vanth through the desert to where the krayt dragon apparently lived.

“He’s good,” she confirmed. “I think he’s enjoying the easy access to petting the bantha.”

Din glanced down, a soft chuckle escaping him when he saw the same thing Sari had witnessed - Grogu with both arms outstretched towards the bantha’s fur and carding his tiny fingers through the woolly strands over and over as his eyes crinkled with delight.

“Maybe we ought to find a bantha toy like that mudhorn you got him,” he suggested.

“I’ll see if I can find one at a market sometime,” she agreed, briefly shutting her exhausted eyes and resting her forehead between his shoulder blades - just above the Rising Phoenix jetpack he almost constantly wore with his armor these days - as the bantha trudged forward, following the other banthas that the Tuskens and Vanth rode in a single-file line across the sand.

“You okay?” Din craned his neck to peer back at her.

“Just tired,” she admitted. “You?”

“I’m fine. No heatstroke symptoms,” he added and she deflated; that had been her next question. “I know what you tend to fuss at me over by now,” he pointed out wryly. “You didn’t sleep well, I noticed. You were tossing and turning all night.”

“I know,” she agreed with a grimace. “It’s a Force thing again. I think I recognize that weapon Vanth’s got on his belt - the broken sword handle. Last night, I kept dreaming about swords like that with different colored lights as the blades.”

“Some kind of laser sword?” Din guessed, bewildered.

“I guess, but that just sounds wrong somehow.” Sari shook her head. “That’s not the word for it, and I don’t know how I know that.”

“You think it’s a Jedi weapon?” Din asked and Sari imagined that if she reached under his helmet, she would feel a furrow between his eyebrows as he contemplated the idea.

“Maybe.” She pressed her forehead against his back again, soaking in the familiar comfort of his muscles flexing beneath her forehead as he glanced over his shoulder at her again. “All I know is that I miss when my dreams were just normal weird ones. You know, like panicking about missing an exam, only to wake up and remember that I haven’t set foot in a classroom in literally twenty years.”

Din’s shoulders trembled with suppressed laughter even as he reached back, finding Sari’s knee and squeezing it gently.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, a note of fondness in his voice that made her heart leap into her throat.

“Don’t laugh at me, it’s a real fear.” She pinched his side in retaliation. “Just like spiders and oceans. Perfectly valid phobias.”

“Spiders?” he echoed and she could practically hear his raised eyebrow and smile. “They’re smaller than you and more scared of you than you are of them.”

“Maybe, but I don’t like the way they move. Too many legs.” She shuddered a little at just the thought of a spider’s scuttling movements.

“And what’s your excuse for oceans?” Din pressed, still sounding amused. “An ocean is just _water_ , Sari.”

“Water with unknown creatures lurking in its depths, there’s a difference,” she clarified and his shoulders trembled once more with another suppressed chuckle. “Laugh all you want, but nearly every planet has reported that they know more about space than they do about their own oceans,” she informed him, bristling at his flippancy. “That’s _terrifying_ , Din.”

“It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Just like you.” He squeezed her knee again, very obviously grinning under his helmet.

“One of these days, I’m going to find out what your irrational fears are and torment you with them,” she threatened, but couldn’t help a smile all the same.

“Good luck with that, cyar’ika,” he warned her, “Because I also happen to know exactly how ticklish you are under your ribs and won’t hesitate to use that knowledge for evil if you try.”

Sari flushed when she remembered exactly how Din had found that out on their way to Tatooine, sprawled on top of her in what had become their sleeping berth while trailing kisses down her torso and stopping only when she had squirmed above him, biting her lip hard to stifle a laugh. He had then made a point to repeatedly brush delicate kisses to the same spot below her ribcage just to make her breathlessly dizzy with laughter. Even now, she could feel the ghost of his smile pressed against her abdomen in response to her involuntary giggles.

Spurred by the pleasant memory, she impulsively leaned up to kiss the nape of her partner’s neck softly - right where she knew a warm patch of skin was exposed between the edge of his helmet and the thin material of his cape - and felt him shiver against her; for all his stoicism and solemnity around everyone else, she’d found that all it took was the lightest graze of her lips against his skin to lower his defenses instantly.

“What’s that for?” he asked curiously.

“No reason,” she admitted, nestling her head against his back again comfortably. “Just love you.”

He hummed under his breath, deliberating for a moment before answering in Mando’a, “Yaim’ner cuyi vaii cuy’gar.”

She frowned at the unfamiliar phrase. “I don’t think you’ve taught me that one. What’s it mean?”

“Later,” he promised.

“Back on that ‘later’ shit, I see,” she grumbled goodnaturedly and he huffed a chuckle meant for only her to hear.

All too soon, the Tuskens ahead of them signaled for them to stop, sliding off their banthas and heading for the ridge ahead of them. Grudgingly, Sari released Din to slip down from their bantha’s back as she saw Cobb Vanth do the same ahead of them, scooping Grogu’s carrier from the saddle to tug it over her shoulders. The child whined in protest, reluctant to release the bantha’s fur as she untangled his fingers from it carefully.

“You can pet the bantha later, bud,” she reassured him, smoothing down his wispy hair as Din climbed down from the bantha’s saddle with a brief pat to the animal’s side before joining them in making their way to where the Tuskens and Vanth were crouched by the ridge. A massive cave lay below them, the entrance dark and foreboding.

“They say it lives in there and that it sleeps,” he translated as the Tusken closest to them began to speak in hoarse grunts. “It lives in an abandoned sarlacc pit.”

Vanth snorted in disbelief. “Pal, I’ve lived on Tatooine my whole life. There’s no such thing as an abandoned sarlacc pit.”

“There is if you eat the sarlacc,” Din answered dryly and Vanth turned pale at the thought even as Sari wrinkled her nose, watching one of the Tuskens heading down to the mouth of the cave below and dragging a clearly reluctant bantha along with him.

“What’s he doing down there?” she asked curiously.

Din relayed the question to the Tusken beside him before conveying the gravelly response in Basic for her benefit, “They’re laying out a bantha to protect their settlement. They’ve studied its digestive cycle for generations. They feed the dragon to make it sleep longer. Watch, the dragon will appear.”

Sure enough, as they watched, the Tusken below them let out a screeching cry to alert the krayt dragon once he had driven a pole into the ground to secure the bantha beside him in place. The ground began to rumble and Sari could feel the tremors even as far away as they were on the ridge as the krayt dragon roared out of the cave angrily. It avoided the bantha entirely, snatching up the fleeing Tusken raider instead with its massive teeth and gulping him down before diving back into the sand and vanishing into the depths of the cave.

Grogu whimpered from his carrier, wide-eyed as he stared at the solitary bantha that the krayt dragon had spared, and Sari pressed a hand to the child’s front gently to soothe him as he clutched her thumb for comfort.

The Tuskens on the ridge began to murmur amongst themselves, agitated by what they had just witnessed, as Din said wryly, “Well, they might be open to some new ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Buire: parents  
> Mirshmure'cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Kandosii: nice one; well done  
> Verd'ika: little soldier; private-ranking soldier, based on context  
> Cyar'ika: darling; sweetheart  
> Yaim'ner cuyi vaii cuy'gar: My home is where you are
> 
> Is that a certain weapon Sari will get later that I see on Cobb Vanth's belt there? *wink wink nudge nudge* also lol foreshadowing that she's not going to have a great few days coming up with those phobias she has 😂
> 
> Also angry!Sari will definitely make a reappearance soon, I had just as much fun writing her as I did with jealous!Din since I loved the idea of Cobb Vanth being legitimately intimidated by her.
> 
> That tidbit I threw in about most planets knowing more about space than they do about their own oceans is based on how it's true for Earth lol we really do know more about space than our own oceans, and that's frankly terrifying to me even though I love the ocean. This may not actually hold up in the Star Wars universe (at least for planets with ocean-based civilizations), but it's a funny little headcanon of mine.
> 
> Thanks for being so understanding about me taking updates a little slower if it happens! Work has just been keeping me busy, nothing major, but it's kind of breaking up my usual flow of writing, so chapters are not being written as fast as I'd like them to be (so far I have 2 more fully written chapters and 1 halfway complete), but I have pretty much all of the events of the rest of the fic planned out and will continue to work on it!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the squad slays a dragon.

“That _can’t_ be to scale,” Cobb Vanth said in alarm as he stared down at the diagram the Tuskens had made in front of their encampment once they had all returned from the krayt dragon’s lair.

Sari examined the scattered bones and rocks as she took a seat on the ground between him and Din, frowning at the long stretch of bones that made up the krayt dragon’s body and the giant rock of its head in comparison to the tiny pebbles scattered around it - presumably the Tuskens and the three of them.

“I don’t know, that seems reasonable for something with the word ‘dragon’ in its name,” she reasoned thoughtfully. “Not that I’d ever seen a krayt dragon in person before yesterday.”

She carefully batted Grogu’s hands away from the bones before he could ruin the diagram, pulling the child into her lap instead and fencing him in with her legs.

“Stop that,” she scolded him and he huffed back at her, silently reminding her that she was no fun. She answered silently that she was well aware of that and he pouted, but obediently flopped back against her stomach in surrender.

“The diagram’s to scale,” Din confirmed once he relayed Vanth’s concern to the Tusken beside him and received a grunt in response.

“I’ve only seen the dragon’s head and neck. That’s a whole lot bigger than I guessed,” Vanth admitted. “So, what, those little rocks are us?”

“These, yes.” Din pointed to the pebbles. An odd sound escaped him suddenly - a laugh he had just barely managed to stifle, Sari realized belatedly - as the Tusken added something else to him in a lowered voice.

“What did he say?” she demanded curiously; she couldn’t remember ever hearing Din laugh so openly in front of strangers, which meant the Tusken had caught him off-guard.

“‘Your partner may only be a small stone next to the dragon, but she is just as fearsome,’” he translated and the hint of pride in his voice sent an unexpected thrill through her.

“He’s not wrong,” Vanth agreed on her other side and she elbowed him underneath his beskar chest plate, glad that she knew Din’s armor enough to find similar chinks in Vanth’s armor as well. “Ow,” he complained goodnaturedly.

“Next time they offer you one of those gourd things, just quit being a baby and drink it,” she told him dryly.

“Yeah, alright.” He grinned sheepishly, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners; he really _did_ remind Sari of Kal, which only served to soften her attitude towards the marshal a little as he turned his attention back to the diagram, his eyebrows furrowing in consideration. “Maybe we oughta rethink our arrangement if this dragon’s really as big as they say.”

Din turned to the Tuskens, seemingly suggesting something to them in their language and signing the question in tandem, and they murmured amongst themselves before scattering several more pebbles into the sand.

“Well, that’s more like it,” Vanth said, relieved. “Where are we getting these extra reinforcements from?”

“I volunteered your village,” Din said dryly and Vanth’s smile vanished instantly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you want to get rid of the dragon or not?” Din demanded.

“I don’t know, he’s got a point, Mando,” Sari admitted as his helmet turned in her direction, tilting slightly in concern. “I mean, we saw some of those people when we got into town. Not many of them seem like they can fight, much less hold their own against a krayt dragon.”

“The same could’ve been said about your village on Sorgan,” he reminded her, “And we taught them to fight well enough to ward off those Klatooinian raiders.”

“Yeah, because they actually _asked_ us to,” she pointed out. “But we can’t just volunteer these people without their consent.”

“So let’s go back to town and ask them.” Din turned back to Vanth, who sighed heavily as he climbed to his feet and dusted sand off the armor he wore.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath that they’ll agree if I were you.”

“Why not?” Sari asked curiously, scooping Grogu up as she got to her feet and settling the child on her hip again. “They’ll listen to you, right?”

“Sure, but we’ve been through plenty of trouble as is lately,” Vanth answered grimly. “Especially with, well-” He glanced pointedly over her shoulder at the gathered Tuskens, who were eyeing their conversation warily. “Let’s just say the folks back home won’t take too kindly to the idea of teamwork.”

“It’s either this or the krayt destroys everything, regardless of whether it’s Tusken territory or Mos Pelgo,” Din said as he joined them. “I don’t see much of an option here.”

“You’re not wrong.” Vanth grimaced. “Alright. Let’s go ask ‘em.”

* * *

“Bleh,” Grogu complained as he shook his sleeves, tiny granules of sand falling onto the floor of Mos Pelgo’s cantina.

“Yeah, I know, bud,” Sari sighed wearily as she scooped him out of his carrier and patted his thick brown robes down, carefully dusting him clean of sand before settling him back within the harnesses. “We’ve all got sand everywhere. We’ll be sweeping out the ship for days once we get back.”

Beside her, Din made a brief, skeptical noise as he watched the townsfolk filter into the cantina in response to the meeting Cobb Vanth had called.

“Days? You found sand in your clothes at least two _weeks_ after our last visit to Mos Eisley. And I should know - you wouldn’t let me forget it with how much you complained.”

She rolled her eyes, digging her elbow gently against his ribs under his chest plate. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t bother you, too.”

“It doesn’t,” he lied blatantly.

“Mhm. Sure, pal.” Sari narrowed her eyes pointedly at his visor and he purposely angled it away from her, deliberately not meeting her gaze.

Rolling her eyes again goodnaturedly, she leaned back against the bar counter behind her, watching the townspeople take seats at the tables around the cantina as Cobb Vanth entered and joined them at the counter.

“Alright, listen up, folks,” he called and the murmuring amongst the villagers ceased almost instantly. “This here is a Mandalorian.” He nodded to Din beside him. “You all know what that means?”

“Well, we’ve heard the stories,” the Weequay who had been bartending when Din and Sari had first arrived in Mos Pelgo offered.

“Then you know how good they are at killing,” Vanth agreed. “Now this one’s got a problem. I got a suit of salvaged armor and the Mandalorian Creed says it’s his to take.” Even as the townspeople began to whisper again uneasily amongst each other, he continued, “But we’ve got a problem, too. A krayt dragon has been peeling off our pack animals and sometimes taking our mining haul with it. It’s just a matter of time before it grows tired of banthas and goes after a couple of you townsfolk, or even - so help us - the school.”

Sari hadn’t even known that there was a school in Mos Pelgo, tiny as the settlement was, but even as she glanced over the crowd, she could spot a few villagers clutching children around Winta’s age close as several others around them shook their heads at the thought.

“Now as much as I’ve grown fond of the armor, I’m even more fond of this town,” Vanth said. “The Mandalorian and his partner here are willing to help us slay the leviathan in exchange for returning the armor to its ancestral owners.”

“So that settles it, doesn’t it?” the bartender asked warily, glancing at his fellow townspeople as they nodded in agreement. Sari tried to ignore how many of them seemed to be sizing her and Din up, instinctively tightening her hold on Grogu’s carrier when several pairs of eyes landed on the child.

“There’s more,” Vanth admitted. “We can’t take on the krayt alone. And the sand people are willing to help.”

At this, the cantina burst into an uproar that made Grogu whimper with alarm and turn his face into Sari’s shirt.

“Marshal, come on!”

“You can’t be serious!”

“They’re monsters!”

“They raid our mines!”

Decidedly done with the cacophony of noise around her, Sari placed her thumb and forefinger in her mouth before whistling loudly enough to cut through the protests, effectively silencing the room again as all eyes fell on her. Even Vanth winced at the shrill sound, but Sari could see the barely-suppressed grin on his face at the stunned looks on several villagers’ faces.

“I’m gonna tell you all the same thing I told your marshal back at the Tusken camp yesterday,” she said sharply as she focused back on the crowd. “You’re not going to like it, but the situation is what it is. That dragon _will_ come back here, just like it’ll come for the Tuskens and anybody else it can find. It doesn’t care if you all fight with each other, nor does it care about your mines or pack animals or the school. It’ll destroy this town without batting an eye the moment the fancy hits it, and if you refuse the Tuskens’ offer of help, you’ll be letting it, so think long and hard about which is the lesser of two evils here.”

“Sari’s right,” Din added as the townspeople began to glance at each other, reluctantly deliberating over her words. “You’re lucky Mos Pelgo isn’t a sand field already. Now I know these people. They _are_ brutal, but so is the Dune Sea. They’ve survived for thousands of years in these sands and they know the krayt dragon better than anyone here. They’re raiders, it’s true, but they also keep their word. We have struck a deal - if we’re willing to leave them the carcass and its ichor, they’ll stand by our side in battle and vow never to raise a blaster against this town until one of you breaks the peace.”

“It’s our best shot at keeping the peace,” Vanth said at last. “So who’s with us?”

The villagers murmured amongst themselves again, still seemingly hesitant, but slowly, they began to raise their hands one by one, and Vanth let out a quiet, relieved breath.

“Great. Then let’s get to work. The sand people will be here any minute to help get supplies together, and I suggest we get a head-start. Gather all the explosives and rope we can find.” As everyone filed out of the cantina to follow his orders, still clearly uneasy at the thought of working with the Tuskens, he leaned over to Din. “Think it’ll work?”

“It had better,” Din answered grimly. “Joining forces is their only hope.”

“Was I too hard on them?” Sari asked worriedly, glancing across her partner at Vanth as he shook his head.

“Nah, you just told ‘em what they needed to hear.” He cracked a grin. “I _told_ you you were scary, though. Thought Weequay back there was about to cry.”

“Oh, _no_ ,” Sari said, mortified, and Vanth began to laugh even as Din’s shoulders trembled with a barely-suppressed chuckle.

* * *

“Dank farrik,” Din heard Sari swear under her breath beside him, but when he turned to see if she had spotted a rising argument between the gathered Tuskens and villagers nearby, he found that she was staring intently at a small pebble nestled in the sand between her and Grogu, who was sat a couple of feet away from her and watching her hopefully.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, bewildered.

“I figured I’d try some Force stuff again while we wait for the recon around the cave to finish up,” she explained, not tearing her eyes away from the pebble. “Although all I’m really doing is giving myself a migraine.”

“Give it a rest, then,” he suggested, “At least until we’re back at the ship.”

“Hang on, I’ve almost-” Her eyebrows knitted together deeply in concentration, but the pebble resolutely remained where it was. “Nope, it’s gone,” she said wearily, the furrow between her eyebrows smoothing out again. “Thought I had something there.”

Grogu let out a gusty sigh, clearly disappointed as well, and Sari rolled her eyes back at the child goodnaturedly.

“If you tell me to ‘trust the Force’ one more time, you’re spending the rest of the day strapped into your carrier. No more stretching those stubby little legs of yours.”

He burbled back at her indignantly before clambering across the sand to Din, who scooped him onto his knee instinctively to soothe him.

“Don’t threaten the fifty-year-old baby, Sari,” he told his partner, unable to stop a hint of amusement from filtering through into his voice at her obvious frustration.

“Then tell the fifty-year-old baby to be less cryptic,” she retorted dryly, but held her hands out for Grogu all the same as Din passed him over. “Okay, fine, I still love you,” she told the child fondly. “Vague instructions and all.”

Grogu grumbled sullenly up at Sari, still seemingly insulted, but she pressed a kiss to the top of his tiny green head and he subsided again, nestling into her embrace readily. Din had to force himself to look away before the sight could make his heart constrict painfully with affection for his clan.

“Alright, recon’s back,” Cobb Vanth said as he returned to the ridge with several villagers and Tuskens behind him, crouching beside them again. “Krayt’s nowhere to be seen and a Tusken scout’s gone closer to the cave to check on it.”

Din peered over the ridge, watching as a Tusken approached the mouth of the cave before pressing a hand to the ground and then climbing to his feet to sign his findings to the crowd gathered on the ridge.

“What’s he saying?” Vanth asked.

“He says the dragon is sleeping,” Din translated, “If we listen carefully, we can hear it breathing.”

“Any idea how long it’ll stay asleep?” All levity had disappeared from Sari’s voice as she shuffled over to the edge of the ridge as well, settling at his side as she brushed a stray curl of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. “It’ll take time for us to set up enough explosives to take it out.”

Grogu was strapped back into the baby carrier hanging from Sari’s shoulders, but he didn’t seem as comforted by her presence as he normally did; Din could see the child’s large eyes darting warily between him, Sari, and the cave ahead of them.

“From what the Tuskens have said, the dragon usually sleeps for days after a meal,” he told her. “We have time as long as we start working now.”

A Tusken offered a black gourd to Vanth and Din couldn’t quite stop a smile from forming on his face - luckily hidden beneath his helmet - when he caught Sari narrowing her eyes at the marshal in a silent warning from his other side. Sure enough, Vanth grimaced before accepting the gourd and swallowing a large gulp, visibly trying his best not to spit it right back out.

“So where do we set up the trap?” he asked once he managed to clear his throat enough to speak again and Din had to tear his eyes away from Sari’s pleased smile.

“The Tuskens say the belly is the only weak spot, so we have to hit it from below. We’ll need to bury the charges at the opening of the cave.” He pointed to where the Tusken scout had begun to retreat back to the ridge to join his people. “Then we’ll wake it up. We have to get it angry enough to charge. Once it’s far enough out and the belly is above the explosives, you hit the detonator.”

As he spoke, he signed the same instructions to the Tuskens, who grunted in agreement before dispersing down to the valley below to begin setting up the trap.

“You heard him, folks,” Vanth said over his shoulder to the gathered villagers. “Get to work, we need to get those explosives in place on the double.”

“It’s like the AT-ST all over again,” Sari said as the villagers hurried to follow the marshal’s orders, grinning wryly at the memory.

“Exactly like the AT-ST,” Din agreed.

He did his best not to think about the night of many firsts that had followed that particular battle: the first time he had taken his helmet off in the same room as Sari - or anyone, for that matter - the first time he had taken her hand underneath the makeshift curtain separating them and felt her fingers curl around his like their hands were made to fit together, the first time they had had a chance to just lay down together and breathe and talk - _really_ talk - without a bounty mission or a threat looming over them, and that wasn’t even where the list ended.

It hadn’t even been all that long ago, and yet it ranked highly on the admittedly short list of the best nights of his life. Now that he thought about it, all of the nights on that list belonged to Sari, which wasn’t even remotely surprising.

“You two took down an _AT-ST_?” Vanth said incredulously as he climbed to his feet.

“Eh. Don’t worry about it.” Sari dismissed his astonishment with an airy wave of her hand. “Go help your people with the explosives.” As Vanth headed down from the ridge to follow after the townspeople, she turned to Din and raised an eyebrow pointedly. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” he asked, startled.

“Your shoulders only get like that when you’re thinking about saying something I won’t like,” she pointed out dryly and he glanced instinctively down at his shoulders, wondering what exactly they were doing to give him away and how to stop them. Before he could figure it out, Sari’s fingers pressed gently under his chin, tipping his head back up to face her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want you to stay up here with the kid and out of harm’s way when I go down there,” he admitted and her expression shuttered, as he had predicted it would.

“Not happening.”

“And if something happens to us and Grogu’s left alone? Or worse, the dragon gets him, too?” he pressed and she grimaced at the thought, automatically dropping her gaze back down to the child nestled against her front and clutching her shirt anxiously. “I’ll always want you at my side, mesh’la. And I know you can take care of yourself, that’s never been a question in my mind. But our foundling’s safety and yours matter too much to me to risk it.”

To his relief, the reassurance seemed to soften Sari’s irritation.

“That goes both ways, you know.” He felt her thumb brush against his jawline beneath his helmet, slow and careful like she was afraid of breaking him. “You’re everything to us, Din.”

Maybe there was more credibility to her treating him like something fragile than he had initially believed because the easy matter-of-factness in her voice as she said it - as if there could never be any doubt in her mind that he was Grogu’s and her shared priority - made his eyes sting sharply even as Grogu chirped from his carrier, seemingly in agreement.

“Oh,” he said faintly, only a little mortified by how rough with emotion his voice ended up sounding, and Sari cracked a small smile as her hand closed around his wrist.

“Come here.”

She tugged him closer and he willingly leaned into her embrace, pressing his visor against her shoulder and angling himself just enough to avoid accidentally crushing Grogu between them as the child patted at his chest plate absently.

“Bring my heart back to me?” Sari’s voice was softer than Din had ever heard it.

“I will,” he promised, trying not to let his voice break.

“Okay.” He could hear the soft brush of her lips against the top of his helmet, so delicate and tender that he wished she had pressed the kiss into his skin instead. “Then we’ll stay up here on the ridge. But I’m holding you to that.”

“I love you,” he murmured fervently into her shoulder, giving up on trying to keep his voice in check as it finally cracked.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum. K’oyacyi, kar’ta’ner,” she said quietly in response.

Din wondered if he had ever heard Sari speak so fluently in Mando’a before, but was almost immediately distracted when she kissed his helmet again, the beskar ringing under the press of her lips like faint wind chimes in his ears.

Embarrassingly, the sound was almost enough to bring him to tears once more, and it was all he could do to pull away and press a mirshmure’cya first to Sari’s forehead and then Grogu’s as the child cooed and grasped either side of his helmet with his tiny hands.

* * *

“Boo-ee,” Grogu whimpered as he and Sari watched Din descend into the valley to help Cobb Vanth, the villagers, and the Tuskens finish setting up the trap for the krayt dragon.

“I know,” Sari agreed quietly, smoothing her finger over the child’s head to calm him. “I’m worried about him, too, but he’ll be okay. He can take care of himself.”

“Feh,” Grogu protested.

“Yes, I know the mudhorn would’ve killed him if you hadn’t intervened,” Sari sighed wearily.

“Bwah,” Grogu added vehemently.

“And that explosion in Nevarro would’ve killed him, too, if IG-11 hadn’t been there,” she confirmed, swallowing back the rising bile in her throat at the memory of Din badly injured and dying in front of her.

“Eh?” Grogu peered up at her hopefully.

“No, we’re still not going down there,” she told him firmly. “Has your buir ever broken a promise to either of us?”

Grogu blew a sullen raspberry at her, but shook his tiny head in response.

“Then he won’t now.” She ducked her head to press a kiss against his wispy hair before sliding her arms around the carrier to cage the child in a loose embrace - which was just as much for her own comfort as his - as they watched the crowd below prepare to wake the krayt dragon.

Three Tuskens walked to the entrance of the cave, glancing at each other before letting out screeching shouts that Sari could hear all the way up on the ridge. She grimaced at the shrill cries, instinctively tightening her hold on Grogu as the dragon began to stir, the ground rumbling under her feet in response to the Tuskens’ taunting.

A low growl echoed from the depths of the cave and the Tuskens turned, running for the line of defenses frantically. Sari looked for Din in the crowd, finding him crouched beside Vanth near the back of the defenses, his binocs pulled out to watch the entrance of the cave as they waited. In his hand, Vanth held a tiny device that Sari presumed was the detonator for the explosives they had planted into the sand outside the cave entrance.

One of the Tuskens tripped and fell just as the krayt dragon emerged from the cave, its massive jaw opening eagerly as it snatched up the Tusken and swallowed him down. Several other Tuskens launched harpoons with ropes attached to them, which embedded themselves between the dragon’s scales, but the dragon only hissed in discomfort before starting to slink back into the cave.

As far away as she was, Sari couldn’t hear Din’s voice, but she could see him pointing at the dragon and then back at where they had set the explosives under the sand several yards from the cave’s entrance - they would need to bring the krayt dragon back out to set off the explosives.

Some of the other Tuskens grabbed onto the ropes trailing from the dragon’s head, but were unsuccessful in dragging it back out as their feet slipped in the sand. The villagers began to shoot at the dragon, and while the laser blasts pinged harmlessly off the creature, the barrage of attacks was enough to agitate it back into slithering out, roaring furiously and slamming its head into the ground to try and swallow some of the people firing at it. Luckily, they scattered in time, running back for the safety of their defenses.

“You might want to set off the explosives when it rears up,” Sari warned into the commlink attached to her collar once she unmuted herself. Grogu burbled worriedly from her front, reaching for the device, and she angled herself away before he could grab the commlink from her.

“Not yet,” Din answered tersely as he clicked his commlink on to respond. “Only its neck is out of the cave and that’s still armored. We need its belly exposed.”

As the Tuskens fired more harpoons at the dragon, yanking hard on the ropes to encourage it to leave the cave, the dragon reared up and opened its large mouth as a green, viscous liquid sprayed out.

“That thing has _acid_?” Sari demanded, bewildered.

“Venom, actually,” Din corrected, “Harmless when dry, but when it’s still fresh, well...” She could hear the wince in his voice as he trailed off and they watched grimly as several Tuskens disintegrated under the shower of krayt dragon venom. “Almost,” Din muttered, barely audible over the commlink as the dragon surged forward out of the cave. “Almost... _now_!”

Vanth hit the button on the detonator and Sari flinched as the explosion rattled the ground beneath her feet, ducking down to avoid the resulting rush of wind and sand. Grogu yelped in fear, his tiny fingers tangling in her shirt, and she tightened her hold on him protectively to soothe him.

“You and the kid okay?” Din demanded into the commlink.

“Yeah, Grogu just got scared by the explosion,” Sari reassured him, peering down into the valley and squinting at the cloud of displaced sand that obscured it. “Are _you_ okay? I don’t have a visual, too much sand in the way.”

“We’re fine,” Din answered distractedly.

As the sand began to settle, Sari could see her partner again in the valley below as his helmet swiveled around for any sign of the krayt dragon, which seemed to have disappeared altogether.

“I don’t think it’s dead, though,” Vanth supplied anxiously.

“Me, neither,” Din agreed grimly.

“It’s coming up on top of the cliff,” Sari warned as she glanced up at the top of the cave, noticing the shifting of rock right before the krayt dragon burst through the cliff face, roaring indignantly and spraying venom down at the gathered crowd as they scattered with panicked screams.

Sari could see various deep wounds on the dragon's stomach bleeding profusely as she squinted at it; the explosion had at least done enough to injure it badly, but they couldn’t wait for it to die from its injuries while it was still actively attacking them.

“It’s picking us off like womp-rats,” Vanth said with a grimace, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled on his helmet.

“Let’s get after it, then,” Din agreed.

Before Sari could protest, both of them activated their jetpacks, soaring into the air with their rifles in hand as they headed for the cliffside where the krayt dragon was perched. Even as they circled the dragon’s head and aimed laser blasts at its vulnerable eyes, it snapped at them, its elongated teeth gleaming in the harsh Tatooinian sunlight.

“This ain’t doing a thing,” Vanth complained, sounding distant through the commlink as he landed a hit at the corner of the dragon’s eye and it swung its head at him in retaliation, forcing him to perform an awkward aerial flip to dodge it.

“Just keep shooting!” Din called back before his audio abruptly cut out as the dragon roared loudly enough to make the ground tremble again; he had muted his commlink to spare Sari’s ears, much to her appreciation.

“If you get yourself killed up there, Din, I’m bringing you back from the dead just to kill you myself,” she threatened, but received no response as she watched the hovering speck of silver beskar in the distance duck underneath the krayt dragon’s head and attempt to fire a shot from his phase-pulse rifle at its jaw.

Even though the laser blast landed squarely on the dragon’s scales, all it did was make the creature angrier as it launched itself at Din and Vanth, snapping at them and biting a massive piece of rock off the cliffside as they dodged it and flew back down to the ground to aim their rifles up at it again. The dragon roared again before vanishing into the rocky tunnel it had created.

“Where did it go?” Sari asked into the commlink, but a startled shriek from Grogu was all she received as a warning before the ground beneath her feet began to rumble, the sand shifting beneath her feet ominously. “Kriff,” she swore before scrambling to her feet and breaking into a run.

“Sari?” She could see Din’s helmet angling up to follow her as she ran, his fingers hovering over the controls for his Rising Phoenix again. “What’s happening?”

“Found the dragon,” she answered brusquely to save her breath.

She vaulted over the edge of the ridge and slid down into the valley just as the krayt dragon burst through the cliff face behind her, entirely demolishing the ridge she had been perched on as it roared towards the gathered crowd.

“We’re okay,” she insisted when she caught Din’s visor still fixed on her from the other side of the valley. “Eyes front.”

It was with obvious reluctance that Din tore his gaze off her, focusing on aiming his rifle at the approaching krayt dragon as Vanth did the same. Grogu whimpered as his large eyes watched the krayt dragon snap up several Tuskens and villagers to swallow them down. The laser blasts did nothing but bounce off its scales and irritate it further.

“I’ve got an idea,” Din said to Vanth as he straightened again, clutching his rifle tightly. His voice was clear through the commlink on Sari’s collar, even though he was several yards away. “Get its attention.”

“Right.” Vanth lowered the scope over his visor, focusing for a moment before the rocket missile on his back launched and landed squarely on the dragon’s snout. The resulting explosion made it roar furiously, charging directly at them. “Well, I got its attention,” Vanth said dryly. “What now?”

“Still got that detonator?”

“Here.” Vanth passed the detonator over. “So what’s the plan?”

Din’s shoulders set in grim determination as he clutched the detonator tightly and Sari knew he had decided to do something colossally stupid as he said, “You’re gonna look after Sari and Grogu.”

“And why would he need to do that?” she asked darkly into the commlink, but he ignored her.

“What’re you gonna do?” Vanth added, bewildered.

“I don’t know, but wish me luck.” Din drove the butt of his rifle into Vanth’s jetpack, sending it spiraling into the air.

“What are you doing?” Sari demanded and he ignored her again, holstering the rifle onto his back. She began to take a step forward instinctively, preparing to run across the valley to his side, but his visor snapped back to her.

“Stay where you are.” The sharpness in his tone left her rooted in place. “You need to keep Grogu safe.”

“Don’t you _dare_ do what I think you’re about to do,” she warned into the commlink as she watched Din run to where an abandoned bantha was tied down uneasily, its saddle loaded with white explosive canisters. “Din, you _promised_.”

“I know.” He swallowed audibly enough for the commlink to pick up the sound as he clutched the reins of the bantha, holding them tightly to keep the animal from attempting to escape as the krayt dragon charged towards them. “I’m sorry.”

“ _No_!” Sari’s voice cracked as the dragon’s jaws widened and closed around Din and the bantha, swallowing them down.

Vanth fell out of the sky as his jetpack gave out, stumbling as he landed in the sand beside her and grabbing her wrist as she tried to take off at a run towards the dragon.

“Hey, no!” he insisted. “There’s nothing you can do for him!”

“I can try!” she snapped back at him, shrugging off the carrier around her shoulders even as Grogu wailed in protest and tried to cling to her frantically. “Here, watch him!”

“Mando told me to look after _both_ of you!” Vanth protested, awkwardly grabbing the child from her when she thrust the carrier into his hands.

“Yeah, well, looks like we’re all breaking promises today,” she retorted before taking off at a run for the dragon, drawing her blaster pistol from her thigh holster.

As she ran, she sent several shots at the dragon’s neck, hoping it would somehow regurgitate Din back up, but all it did was make the dragon shake its head violently to dismiss the stinging of the laser blasts against its scales.

“Fuck it,” she muttered, shoving her pistol unceremoniously back into her holster and taking a deep breath as she lifted her hands slowly and shut her eyes tightly, concentrating on stopping the krayt dragon just like Grogu had stopped the mudhorn all those months earlier.

It didn’t work; the dragon continued to roar and surge forward in an attempt to eat every villager and Tusken around it in retaliation for being attacked.

“Stop that thing,” Sari pleaded under her breath as her eyes stung sharply, but she didn’t know if it was from flying sand or tears. “I don’t care what you have to do, Force, just _save him_.”

Time ground to a halt and stood still. The air around her thrummed with energy and silence rang in her ears, but even without opening her eyes, she could sense everything and everyone around her: every grain of sand beneath her feet, every villager and Tusken in the valley, even Vanth holding Grogu behind her as the child cried despairingly for her and Din to come back - _please,_ _buire_ _, not you, too, I can’t lose you both, too_ \- and the krayt dragon in front of her, gargantuan and larger than life as it thrashed violently.

She could even sense Din, very much alive and trapped in the krayt dragon’s throat with one hand on the button of the detonator and the other still wrapped around the bantha’s reins, and it was all she could do to focus on forcing the krayt dragon to hold still long enough for him to get himself back out.

“What the kriff?!” Vanth said loudly behind her, but she didn’t dare open her eyes to find out what he was reacting to.

 _Come on, Djarin, I’m giving you a window, now_ take _it_ , she thought desperately and sensed Din start slightly in surprise from his position inside the krayt dragon’s throat, his head swiveling around briefly before he released the bantha’s reins.

He grabbed for the phase-pulse rifle on his back and sent off an electric pulse to force the krayt dragon to open its mouth as he activated his Rising Phoenix to push himself out of the explosion’s range. As he soared clear of the krayt dragon’s open mouth and into the air, he pressed the button clutched in his other hand and the bantha’s explosives detonated with a loud explosion.

The krayt dragon screeched in agony as it was torn apart from the inside and the gathered villagers and Tuskens burst into cheers as it collapsed into the sand, dead.

“Holy _shit_ , Sari!” Vanth shouted incredulously, grabbing her shoulder and snapping her out of her concentration as she opened her eyes. Her vision swam dangerously and she had to swallow back bile as it rose in her throat, her head pounding in time with her pulse. “You just stopped that dragon in its tracks!”

“Did I?” she said faintly, feeling her legs give out underneath her, and Grogu began to scream from somewhere nearby as everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Mesh’la: beautiful  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum: I love you; literally 'I hold you in my heart eternally'  
> K’oyacyi: Come back safely; literally 'stay alive'  
> Kar’ta’ner: my heart  
> Mirshmure’cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Buire: parents
> 
> This is not a drill, Sari just physically used the Force for the first time in her adult life and it was to save Din 😱
> 
> So I was on a writing spree yesterday and finished 2 chapters, so y'all get this one a little earlier than I'd planned in celebration lol so you get to enjoy a little more angry!Sari yelling at the Mos Pelgo villagers while I suffer through the current scene of my draft that I'm writing (spoiler: it involves spiders and I'm dying ;A;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari is not a happy camper with her partner's kamikaze stunts.

_Come on, Djarin, I’m giving you a window, now_ take _it_.

It was Sari’s voice, there was no doubt about it, and it sounded like it was right next to Din’s ear, practically in his head with how close it was. It couldn’t have been from his commlink - the signal had been cut off the moment he had been swallowed down - and yet she had somehow reached him to tell him she had given him a window.

Sure enough, the krayt dragon had frozen in place around him, the muscles of its throat stuck unmoving when they hadn’t been a moment earlier. He didn’t have enough time to think about what that meant as he released the bantha carrying the explosives before making his escape and setting off the explosion that resulted in the krayt dragon crashing into the sand, dead with a massive hole torn in its throat.

He dropped into the sand unceremoniously once the Rising Phoenix’s jets cut out - he really needed to remember to practice his drills with the jetpack as the Armorer had instructed - and pushed himself onto his knees just in time to hear Grogu start screeching, terrified in a way he had never heard the child sound before.

He scrambled to his feet, glancing around for what had made Grogu cry out like that before he spotted it - Sari lay limp and lifeless in the sand with her head cradled gingerly in Vanth’s hands. Grogu lay abandoned in his carrier nearby, wriggling desperately in an attempt to free himself and whining anxiously.

“Sari!” Before Din knew it, his feet were carrying him towards his clanmate, pushing past the villagers and Tuskens gathering around the dead krayt dragon behind him, but Vanth held up a hand to stop him before he could reach for Sari instinctively.

“Careful, pal, you’re covered in krayt venom. You touch her while that stuff’s still fresh, you’ll burn her.”

Din glanced down at himself distractedly and found drops of viscous, green krayt dragon venom rolling down his leather gloves and armor, dripping into the sand at his feet with barely audible hisses as they made contact with the ground.

“What happened to her?” he demanded instead as he dropped to his knees at Sari’s side, tearing his venom-stained gloves off without thinking twice about it and abandoning them in the sand nearby so that he could press his clean hand to her cheek.

Her skin felt feverishly warm against his fingers even as she tilted her head into his palm subconsciously; she was still alive. The relief that flooded through him from that realization made him glad he wasn’t on his feet or he would have probably collapsed from the raw intensity of it.

“No idea,” Vanth admitted. “One minute, she was firing her pistol at the dragon - I have no idea what she thought _that_ would do, if our rifles didn’t even make it flinch - and the next, she was holding up her hands and it just froze in place like she’d stopped it with her bare hands.”

Din reached for Grogu’s carrier as the child continued to whimper, untangling him from the harnesses before setting him down at Sari’s side. Grogu scrambled on top of her, his tiny hands patting at her face frantically, and when he seemed to conclude that she was alive, he slumped against her shoulder, letting out a breathy, exhausted sigh as he clung to her.

“She stopped the dragon?” Din echoed slowly as Vanth’s words finally registered past the sheer relief that Sari was alive, albeit unconscious; had she finally figured out her Force powers and immediately used them to save his life? The thought made his throat tighten painfully.

“Sure did, just long enough for you to get out and set that explosion off.” Vanth glanced down at Sari, still seemingly bewildered by what he had just witnessed. “How the hell did she _do_ that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Din said - which, in his defense, wasn’t entirely a lie since he doubted he could explain the Force even if he tried - as he reached up, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of Sari’s eyes for her.

At his touch, she stirred at last, her hazel eyes blinking open slowly and focusing on him.

“Hey,” he greeted her, unable to help but smile beneath his helmet even though she couldn't see it; at least she hadn’t been in a coma for three days like Grogu had been after the mudhorn incident. “Take it easy, you just-”

Pain exploded under his jaw like a firework and he toppled backward into the sand, startled. He looked back up to find Sari shaking out her fist as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, scowling; she had punched him in an uppercut to avoid hitting the beskar of his helmet.

“ _That’s_ for getting eaten by a kriffing krayt dragon.”

“I’m sorry?” he tried, rubbing instinctively at his jaw as he sat upright again before retrieving his abandoned gloves to pull them back on. Even weakened as the impact had been, he knew it would bruise spectacularly later.

“Fuck your apology,” she snarled back even as she hauled a whimpering Grogu against her shoulder, squeezing the child close.

“I’m not getting involved in whatever this is,” Vanth wisely decided, pushing himself to his feet and beating a hasty retreat.

“Good choice,” Sari called after him stiffly, her eyes narrowing at Din as he half-wished he had thought to follow the marshal.

* * *

After a few hours of having Sari glare a hole into his helmet, Din decided that her ability to hold a grudge was even worse than her ability to throw a punch. He almost preferred the burning heat of the Tatooinian suns above to the frosty silence emanating from his clanmate now as she strapped Grogu into his carrier hanging from the seat of her speeder bike, her shoulders tight with residual anger long after the krayt dragon had been killed and the Tuskens and villagers had begun to work together to harvest its remains.

A large chunk of krayt dragon meat was strapped down to Din’s speeder bike along with the rest of their supplies, including the beskar armor that Cobb Vanth had given up readily once the dragon had been defeated.

“Here’s the last of it.” Vanth held out the odd cylindrical sword hilt from his belt.

“Thank you.” Din accepted it before tossing it to Sari; if it really _was_ a Jedi weapon, she deserved to keep it with her.

She caught the sword hilt without looking at him and tucked it onto her belt beside one of her hooked blades. She still looked pale and shaky on her feet, but had adamantly refused to sit down and rest even though her use of the Force had obviously exhausted her, throwing herself silently into helping the villagers and Tuskens in their various tasks instead.

“Mweh?” Din heard Grogu ask worriedly, clearly unnerved by her quiet anger, and caught her expression softening in his peripheral vision.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured fondly, kneeling to his height and pressing a kiss to his forehead to soothe him. “I’m not mad at _you_.”

Din did his best not to wince at the heavy implication as she climbed back to her feet before crossing the distance between herself and Vanth, holding a hand out to him.

“Good working with you, marshal,” she said cheerfully, as if she hadn’t been scowling only moments earlier.

“Uh, yeah, you, too,” he agreed warily, shaking her hand.

She squinted at him suddenly. “Okay, I have to ask, have you ever met a guy named Kal Soren before?”

“You know my cousin?” He blinked, startled.

“No _wonder_ you reminded me of him when I first saw you,” she said, relieved. “It’s been driving me crazy for a while now. Kal’s my ex, but we’re still good friends.”

“No shit, really? Small galaxy.” Vanth grinned broadly and Din could finally see the resemblance to Sari’s former partner now that she had mentioned it; if Vanth’s eyes had been blue, their features would have been nearly identical. “Is he still based out of Nevarro?”

“Sure, we saw him there just a few weeks ago,” Sari confirmed.

“Well, tell him to send a comm my way the next time you see him, I haven’t heard from him in years,” Vanth said and Sari smiled wryly.

“Will do, marshal.”

“Hope our paths cross again,” Vanth added to Din as Sari returned to her speeder bike.

“As do I.” Din shook his outstretched hand.

“Although I hope your girl’s in a better mood when they do because she really _is_ scary when she’s angry,” Vanth admitted under his breath. “Did Kal warn you about her temper?”

“He did. I should’ve listened to him.” Din could feel the likely dark bruise on his jaw throbbing in time with his pulse and belatedly remembered Soren’s warning to watch out for Sari’s right hook.

“I can _hear you_ ,” Sari said pointedly behind him and Vanth grimaced slightly.

“Y’know what, I think I hear somebody calling me,” he lied and Din didn’t blame him. “Good working with you, Mando.”

As he walked away just a little too quickly to be considered a casual getaway, Din turned back to Sari, who was checking the straps on Grogu’s carrier one last time and deliberately not looking at him. Her eyebrows were knitted back together in the deep frown she had sported ever since she had awoken from her fainting spell after using the Force.

“Mesh’la, I’m _sorry_ ,” he apologized for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Fuck you,” Sari answered coolly, tugging her scarf up to cover her nose and mouth before fitting her goggles over her eyes.

“I’m not going to apologize one more time for killing the krayt dragon,” he sighed, giving up on trying to appease her; she seemed determined to be angry with him no matter how many times he apologized and he had no idea how to begin fixing it.

“Great, then we’ve got nothing to discuss.” She swung herself up onto her speeder bike. “Let’s go.”

Without bothering to wait for him, she took off, leaving a cloud of sand in her wake. Letting out a heavy sigh, Din climbed onto his speeder bike, making sure the beskar armor and the rest of the supplies were secure behind him before starting up the speeder and taking off after his clan.

It took a couple of hours of driving and waiting for Sari to slow down enough for him to catch up to her speeder bike, but she still avoided looking at him, her gaze fixed firmly ahead on the empty desert in front of them.

“Sari, come on,” he called over the sound of the wind rushing past them. “What else could I have done?”

“I _said_ there’s nothing to discuss,” she retorted irritably. “So _drop it_.”

“You’re acting like a child,” he blurted out in frustration before he could stop himself and immediately regretted it when he saw her fingers clench on the handlebars of her speeder bike. “Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he tried, but she was already reaching back, draping a cloth over Grogu’s face to shield him from the flying sand before taking off again at full speed.

Inwardly swearing at himself for upsetting her even more, Din pushed his own speeder bike forward to reach her again, but even as he caught up to her and turned to try and catch her eye, the world turned itself on its head abruptly. He found himself airborne for a split second, fumbling to catch himself with the Rising Phoenix on his back and landing clumsily on his feet even as his speeder bike spiraled out of control and landed in the sand behind him before bursting into flames.

As his feet found purchase in the sand again, he saw what had caused the crash - a large rope had been strung across the rock quarry they had been passing through like a massive tripwire that he hadn’t noticed, too distracted by his argument with Sari. He spun around to search for her only to find that her speeder bike had crashed, too, leaving her sprawled in the sand several yards away.

A fresh cut on her forehead bled freely as she yanked off her goggles and tugged down her scarf, pushing herself hurriedly to her feet and stumbling to the wreckage of her speeder bike to check on the wailing child trapped in the carrier hanging from the seat. Thankfully, though the speeder was badly damaged, it hadn’t exploded and Grogu appeared unharmed, albeit incredibly distressed by the crash as he flailed in a desperate bid to free himself from his carrier.

In the face of what had just happened, Sari’s anger seemed to have been pushed aside as she turned back to Din, giving him a shaky thumbs-up to confirm that they were alright. He let out a relieved breath, taking a step forward to close the distance between them and make sure of that for himself, but then a laser blast hit him in the back hard enough to knock the wind out of him as he was forced down into the sand.

“Get the child!” a gruff human voice snarled from somewhere above him.

He scrambled for the blaster at his belt, but Sari fired off a shot from her own gun before he could, dropping the Nikto who had shot him and giving him time to push himself to his feet. He was almost immediately tackled back down by a burly human mercenary, but brought both of his legs up to kick the man off him before firing a shot directly into his head to kill him.

“How many left?” he called to Sari as he climbed back to his feet yet again, shaking his head to reorient himself.

“Two!” she snapped back, sounding strained.

When Din turned to find out why, he realized that a second human had her cornered against the rocky wall of the quarry. She was already ducking under his arm before Din could get his blaster up in time, tearing one of her blades from her belt before flipping it open and stabbing it into his back.

“One,” she corrected herself grimly as she yanked the blade out again single-handedly, wiping it clean on the dead mercenary’s shirt, but then froze, her eyes wide and fixed on a point behind Din.

When he turned, he realized what she had seen - the last mercenary, a short alien with a metallic face covering, had cut Grogu free of his carrier and now held a dagger to the child’s throat.

“Wait,” he blurted out as the edge of the blade moved closer to Grogu. “Don’t harm the child.”

“If you put one mark on him, there’s no place in this universe you’ll be able to hide from us,” Sari added darkly as she joined him, clutching her hooked blade so tightly that he could see her knuckles turning white against the black handle. He was beginning to understand how she had survived so long on her own as a bounty hunter; the dangerous edge to her voice might have been genuinely unsettling if it had been aimed at him.

Grogu’s eyes were impossibly wide and terrified as the dagger pressed even closer to his little neck and the mercenary tilted his head consideringly to see what they would do. Swallowing, Din lowered his blaster slowly, holstering it again as he watched the alien’s head follow the movement.

“Put your blade down, Sari,” he said quietly and saw her jaw clench out of the corner of her eye before she reluctantly returned her blade to her belt. “We can strike a bargain,” he offered to the mercenary, ignoring the barely stifled scoff it earned him from his partner. “There’s a lot of value in this wreckage.” He gestured to the ruined speeder bikes. “Take your pick.”

The mercenary deliberated for a moment before pointing over Din’s shoulder with his dagger with a command in a language Din didn’t recognize. Thankfully realizing what he wanted, Din quickly removed the Rising Phoenix from his back, placing it on the ground between them.

“Go ahead, you can have it. Just leave the kid.” The mercenary inched closer to the jetpack warily. “It’s okay.” Din tried to keep his voice low and calm even as the mercenary lowered Grogu to the ground, snatching up the jetpack and taking off across the sand.

Grogu wobbled towards Din and Sari with a frightened whimper, but Sari made no move to pick him up, much to Din’s surprise; maybe she was still upset, but he had never seen her take it out on their child before. He knelt to scoop Grogu into his arms instead, rubbing his back gently.

“Gar jahaala, ad’ika?” he asked quietly and Grogu cooed what he thought was an affirmation before pressing his face into the space between Din’s chest plate and his pauldron for comfort; at least he seemed to understand Mando’a even if he couldn’t quite speak it.

Satisfied that the child was seemingly unharmed, Din reached for his gauntlet to trigger the Rising Phoenix to fly back to him - and hopefully kill the mercenary in the process of igniting it - but a laser blast cut past his shoulder in the next instant, close enough that it might have singed him if his pauldron hadn’t shielded him from the heat. It nailed the mercenary in the back of his head as he collapsed into the sand several yards away, dead.

“Put a knife to _my_ kid’s throat,” Sari grumbled under her breath furiously. “See how kriffing far _that_ gets you.”

Din turned to find her tucking her smoking blaster back into her thigh holster before she stalked across the sand to where the mercenary had fallen, visibly bristling with anger. Her left arm hung limply at her side - that explained why she hadn’t tried to pick Grogu up - as she snatched up the Rising Phoenix with her right hand and hauled it back to where Din remained rooted in place, unable to help but stare at her and grateful that his helmet hid the stunned expression that was likely on his face.

“Here’s your stupid jetpack, let’s see what we can salvage from the bikes,” she said irritably, tossing the Rising Phoenix into the sand at his feet.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked when he could control his vocal cords again.

“Can’t move it. Probably hurt my shoulder when my bike crashed,” she said distractedly as she took a step towards the wreckage of their speeder bikes, but he caught her good arm with his free hand, gently yanking her back towards him.

“Let me see.” She remained stock-still, her eyes fixed firmly away from him as he examined her left shoulder through her shirt; it was oddly misshapen in a way that indicated a dislocated joint. “It’s dislocated. I’m going to have to reset it, we can’t let it wait until we get back to Mos Eisley.”

“Yeah, okay, just get it over with.” Sari swallowed a little as Din set Grogu down in the sand at their feet, forcing himself to ignore the whimper of protest the child let out as he clutched at Din’s boot.

“On three,” he told her and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder to brace herself. “One.” He didn’t bother counting any higher as he jerked her shoulder back into place unceremoniously, ignoring the nausea-inducing snap of the joint slotting back into place.

“You said on _three_ , you fucking liar,” Sari wheezed accusingly as her knees buckled and Din caught her, lowering her to the ground and letting her lean heavily against him.

“I didn’t want you tensing up,” he explained as he pressed his helmet against the top of her head guiltily. “Ni ceta, mesh’la.”

“‘S fine,” she rasped as she caught her breath. “Not the first shoulder I’ve dislocated. Probably won’t be the last, either.”

Grogu wiggled between them, whining anxiously as he clutched at Sari’s knee, and she patted the child absently to soothe him with her good hand, her fingers trembling as she smoothed them along Grogu’s back slowly.

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for,” Din confessed and she tensed.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to apologize for killing the krayt dragon,” she said carefully.

“I’m apologizing for being reckless and scaring you, and for accusing you of acting childish when you have every right to be angry with me.” He pulled back just enough to push his helmet up slightly, knowing she would shut her eyes in time as he pressed his lips into her hair. “I’m sorry, cyar’ika.”

As he had predicted, Sari’s eyes were closed when he pulled back, her good hand settled over Grogu’s eyes as well to shield them. He lowered his helmet again and she wordlessly pressed her forehead back against his shoulder without opening her eyes, dropping her hand away from Grogu’s face. For once, the child didn’t protest, his gaze dark and worried as he glanced between the two of them silently.

“Where did I hit you?” Sari asked after a long moment and the question took Din aback.

“What?”

“I have no idea where I ended up punching you,” she admitted, “All I know is I didn’t hit beskar because my fingers aren’t broken.”

He couldn’t stop a startled laugh from escaping him; of all the things to worry about - the most recent attempt to kidnap Grogu, her obvious exhaustion after stopping the krayt dragon with her Force powers, and hell, her currently dislocated shoulder and the shallow cut still sluggishly bleeding on her forehead - she was worried about where she had hit him.

“Here.” He tilted his head up and felt her pull away again as her fingers probed his jawline gingerly.

“Shit,” she breathed when she found the bruise she had given him, sounding mortified at herself. “I’m sorry, kar’ta’ner.”

“I’ve had worse,” he reassured her, feeling the last of his tension leave him at the sound of her nickname for him, and her lips brushed over the bruised spot on his jaw, tender and careful enough that it didn’t even hurt.

“Doesn’t make it okay,” she answered before tucking her head back against his shoulder.

He was glad that the krayt dragon venom had long since dried, leaving it harmless on his armor and clothes as he hauled her closer and felt her good arm slide around him in return, her fingers pressing against the small of his back. She couldn’t move her left arm, so he nestled Grogu between them instead when the child plaintively lifted his arms to be picked up.

Din didn’t know how long the three of them sat together in the middle of the Tatooinian desert, clinging to each other like the universe around them would fall apart if they didn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, either.

“I don’t know how I did it,” Sari said quietly at long last.

“When you stopped the krayt dragon?” he guessed and felt her nod into his shoulder.

“Been trying to do it again ever since - moving tiny rocks and stuff - but I can’t. It’s gone now, whatever it was.” The distance in her voice - like she was lightyears away even though she was right in front of him - sent a disturbing chill down his spine.

“I heard your voice when I was in the dragon’s throat,” he said, hoping it would bring her back from wherever she had drifted, and she froze against him as his words seemed to register. “You said you were giving me a window and to take it.”

“I don’t remember that,” she admitted as she relaxed again slowly, pressing her nose into his neck. “All I remember was thinking I was going to lose you.”

“I’m right here,” he promised her around the sudden lump in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Boo-ee,” Grogu whimpered from between them, reaching up a tiny hand to pat at Sari’s cheek tentatively, and she pulled back just enough to smile down at him faintly.

“We’re okay, bud.” She ducked her head down to press a kiss against the child’s forehead and Din felt a twinge of relief when she leaned up to kiss the underside of his jaw next, not even caring that her lips pressed a little harder this time against the bruise and made it sting. “We’re all okay.”

* * *

Sari carefully jostled Grogu with her elbow until he settled more comfortably against her good shoulder, silently reassuring him that he didn’t need to overexert himself by attempting to heal her. His carrier had been beyond saving after the mercenary had slashed it to bits while taking him hostage, so she was forced to keep him nestled in the crook of her right arm as they traversed the desert on foot back to Mos Eisley.

Din had also insisted on fashioning a makeshift sling out of his cape and tying it around her injured left arm to secure it tightly against her chest, which left her unable to help him carry any of the supplies that they had managed to salvage from the wreckage. Thankfully, most of their supplies had survived the crash, leaving Grogu's carrier as their only real casualty.

Between the beskar armor and the large chunk of krayt dragon meat slung across his broad shoulders along with several other pieces of cargo they had managed to find intact, she felt guilty enough for being unable to help, but it had also taken them until nightfall to even see Mos Eisley on the horizon. If every muscle in her body ached from the long walk, she could only imagine how he felt with several pounds of cargo on his back in addition to the armor and jetpack he wore, even excluding the dull headache she’d sported all day from her use of the Force earlier.

“I’m _fine_ , Sari,” he insisted with a heavy sigh when he caught her glancing at him as they walked. “Is there a medcenter in town for your shoulder?”

“There is,” she confirmed. “It should be close to the hangar, I can stop in there and get a bacta shot. My shoulder should heal up in an hour or two after that.”

“Good.” Din’s helmet angled down to where Grogu clung to her good shoulder. “Might want to take the kid with you, he’s been awfully clingy all day.”

“I don’t blame him,” Sari admitted, “It’s been a rough day all around.” She leaned down to brush a kiss between Grogu’s furrowed eyebrows, but his frown only deepened. “Come on, kiddo, we’re okay. Look, we’re not even arguing anymore,” she insisted, but he whimpered faintly, burying his face into her shoulder. She hadn’t seen him smile once since before they had confronted the krayt dragon, which was unlike the normally bubbly child she knew.

“What’s wrong with him?” Din peered over her shoulder at Grogu worriedly.

“He’s scared,” she clarified, “I can’t get all of it from him - it’s not always easy to interpret what he’s thinking - but I think he’s lost other people in his life before we came along. He doesn’t want to lose us, too.”

“He won’t,” Din said firmly, his helmet angling down to Grogu when the child peered up at him with large, wet eyes. “You hear me, kid? You’re stuck with us.”

Grogu burbled quietly, clearly not entirely convinced, but a tiny smile finally tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“There’s my sunshine,” Sari murmured fondly, bumping her forehead against Grogu’s gently and earning a slightly wider smile from the child. “You know, maybe he wouldn’t be so scared to lose us if you didn’t tell him about your plan to send us away with the Jedi,” she added dryly and heard Din fumble with one of the pieces of cargo he was carrying behind her, startled.

“You heard that?” he demanded.

“ _And_ saw the gorgeous meteor shower you were going to let me sleep through, thank you very much.” She glanced over her shoulder to find him staring at her, his visor unreadable. “For the record, that’s what Grogu wanted us to talk about back at the Tusken camp. Were you serious about having us leave you? Because that sure as hell is _not_ happening.”

“Sari, that’s not fair,” he sighed.

“No, I think it’s entirely fair to not want to give up the love of my life,” Sari retorted. “And that’s _you_ , since I clearly have to spell it out for you.” Din stopped in his tracks as if rooted to the spot as she turned to face him again, shifting Grogu in the crook of her good arm to settle him carefully against her shoulder. “I made you a promise before we left Sorgan the first time,” she reminded her partner. “I told you I wasn’t going to consider any option that ended with one of us alone. Remember?”

“I remember,” he agreed hoarsely.

“Well, I meant it.” She closed the space between them, leaning up to kiss the exposed crook of his neck that was normally covered by the cape currently wrapped around her injured arm. “And Grogu doesn’t want to go anywhere without us, either. So whatever happens, we’ll make that choice together, all three of us. No more talk of us leaving you behind, okay?”

Din swallowed harshly above her before pressing his helmet into her hair. “Okay.”

“Good.” She stole another kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling a pang of guilt as her lips brushed over the dark bruise she had left on his skin. “I love you, idiot.” She couldn’t stop the insult from sounding affectionate despite herself.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he answered, his voice rough with emotion.

“Bwah,” Grogu added vehemently to get their attention again, waving his tiny hand up at them to sign _I love you_ from where he was nestled against Sari’s shoulder, and Din let out a faint chuckle that Sari could swear sounded a little watery as he ducked his head and pressed a mirshmure’cya to the child’s forehead in return.

* * *

“You have no idea how much I hate needles,” Sari told Grogu wearily as she nestled the child in her lap. “So it’s actually kind of a good thing I’ve got you to keep me company.”

“Mweh?” Grogu tilted his head as he examined the crisp white interior of the medcenter from the cot they were sitting on while they waited for someone to administer the bacta shot to Sari’s arm after checking in at the front desk.

“You’ve never had a shot before?” Sari asked, surprised, and Grogu frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head, his large ears flopping with the motion. “Well, consider yourself lucky, it’s not pleasant.”

“Eh?” He tilted his head up towards her, frowning curiously.

“Well, it does hurt a little,” she answered his silent question. “But it makes you feel better after, so I guess it’s worth it.”

“Is the shot for the little one?” a Twi’lek nurse with lavender skin asked as she approached them, drawing a syringe of bacta from her pocket.

“For me, actually,” Sari clarified, embarrassed at having been caught talking to Grogu by a stranger. “I just talk at him to ease my nerves.”

“Ha, don’t worry, I do the same thing with my loth-cat,” the nurse joked as she examined the sling Sari’s arm was wrapped in. “This is a well-made sling, nice and secure.”

“My partner made it,” Sari admitted. “We were out in the desert and I dislocated my shoulder when our speeders crashed. He reset the joint and wrapped it himself.”

“Well, I’m going to have to untie it now to get to your shoulder, but you tell your partner he’s taking good care of you.” The nurse reached back to where the sling was tied around Sari’s neck and she was sorry to feel the thin material of Din’s cape slide away from her arm.

“I’ll tell him,” she agreed, unable to help a faint smile as she tugged the cape down and over Grogu’s lap as the child burbled happily, back to his cheerful self now that his fears seemed to have been assuaged.

“Alright, take a deep breath now and relax,” the nurse warned.

Sari purposely kept her eyes fixed on Grogu and his fingers curling into the material of Din’s cape as she felt the sharp sting of the needle pressing into her shoulder. Almost immediately, a cool numbing sensation spread through her muscles as the bacta took effect, the ache in her shoulder vanishing instantly.

“I’m going to recommend you don’t lift anything heavy with that arm for another hour or so, but after that, you should be fine to use it as normal,” the nurse said cheerfully as she withdrew the syringe, disposing of it in the waste bin beside the cot. “You’re free to go. Front desk will deal with payment.”

“Thanks.” Sari impulsively swaddled Grogu into a bundle with Din’s cape, grinning despite herself as the child burrowed into the cloth material delightedly, and nestled him against her good shoulder as she carried him out to the front desk to pay for the bacta shot. She knew bacta was expensive, but the price still made her wince as she handed over the credits and made her way back to Bay 3-5.

She could hear the shower running as she carried a nearly-asleep Grogu into the Razor Crest, untangling him from Din’s cape to set him in his hammock before carefully folding the cape and setting it aside to wash later. Several pieces of cargo lay scattered across the floor of the Razor Crest, Din having haphazardly discarded them on his way to the refresher, and she began to pick up each one single-handedly, unpacking the supplies and putting them away.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” She glanced up to see Din stepping out of the refresher in just his clothes and helmet, carrying the rest of his armor in his arms and depositing the beskar pieces on the floor of their open sleeping berth.

“Much better,” she reassured him. “The bacta should finish healing it up soon enough. And the nurse told me your sling was well-made and you’re taking good care of me.”

“Oh.” Din shuffled slightly, visibly embarrassed.

“It’s true,” Sari added wryly. “You are.”

“You don’t have to unpack, I was going to do that,” he blurted out, realizing she was holding a pack of protein blocks in her hands.

“It’s fine, I’m almost done,” she dismissed, going back to her task of putting away their supplies. “You haven’t been in the shower this entire time, have you?”

“No, I stopped by the cantina first and talked to Peli. She might have another lead on a Mandalorian,” Din admitted.

Sari nearly dropped the can of soup in her hand, startled. “Are you sure?”

“She said the contact will show up at the hangar in a few hours,” he added. “I gave her the krayt dragon meat, too. She said it’ll be ready for all of us to share it around the time the contact arrives.”

“Good, that gives us time to get some sleep, then,” Sari agreed, relieved as she put the can of soup away into the cupboard and tapped the watch on her wrist to set her alarm for three hours; that seemed like a reasonable amount of time before the contact arrived. “Go lie down, you look like you’re about to keel over any second.”

Din let out a low chuckle even as he retreated into their sleeping berth and shut the door behind himself, a sign that he was going to remove his helmet to sleep. Sari took the opportunity to shower as well, immensely relieved to get the chance to scrub herself clean of sand and grime from the past couple of days, before stepping out of the refresher and rapping her knuckles lightly on the sleeping berth’s door once she had re-dressed.

“I’m shutting my eyes and coming in,” she warned, closing her eyes and entering the sleeping berth. She waited for the door to slide shut before daring to open her eyes again in the darkness of the room as she settled on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Din greeted her, sounding half-asleep already. The drowsy contentment in his voice was so endearing that she wished she could bottle it up and savor it permanently.

“Hi.” She shifted to sprawl out at his side comfortably, curling into his solid warmth.

“You sound tired,” he informed her, sounding like he was stifling a yawn as he spoke.

“I am,” she admitted.

“You should sleep, then.” She felt his fingers slide up to comb through her damp hair and instinctively tilted her head into his touch.

“So should you.” She tilted her head up to kiss his stubbled cheek; he hadn’t bothered shaving after his shower.

“...will you hold me?” The request took Sari aback, quiet and tentative as it was.

“Always,” she agreed, startled, and Din shuffled beside her until his head nestled underneath her chin. She slid her arms around him, grateful that her shoulder no longer ached so that she could clutch him tightly as she pressed a kiss into his hair. “Sleep, kar’ta’ner. I’ve got you.”

“Yaim’ner cuyi vaii cuy’gar,” he answered as he settled against her, the muscles in his body relaxing slowly.

“You still owe me a translation for that,” she reminded him.

“‘My home is where you are,’” he translated around another yawn.

Sari had to blink the sharp sting of tears out of her eyes, hoping she didn’t sound too wrecked as she answered quietly, “Same goes for you. I love you, Din.”

“Love you, Sari,” he mumbled into her collarbone. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was asleep against her, his slow, even breaths fanning across her neck in warm waves.

Impulsively, Sari reached up, her fingers brushing over the smooth skin of Din’s forehead and down over his nose slowly before resting against the curve of his jaw as she trailed her thumb over his cheekbone delicately. She had memorized every inch of Din’s face in the dark - knew every single line and divot of his features beneath her fingertips - and yet she could never get enough of learning him by touch alone.

At last, she settled for pressing a kiss against his forehead before letting her tired, aching eyes finally drift shut as she gave in to unconsciousness as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Mesh’la: beautiful  
> Gar jahaala: are you well; are you healthy  
> Ad’ika: little one; child  
> Ni ceta: literally 'I kneel'; a rare groveling apology  
> Cyar’ika: darling; sweetheart  
> Kar’ta’ner: my heart  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum: I love you; literally 'I hold you in my heart eternally'  
> Mirshmure’cya:Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> Yaim’ner cuyi vaii cuy’gar: My home is where you are
> 
> I really wanted to have Sari mad at Din all the way through this chapter, but I couldn't muster it, honestly, I love these two too much and they only just made up from their last argument lol.
> 
> Unfortunately haven't had much time to write these past couple days (future in-laws were in town and wanted to meet up with me while they're staying with my fiancé), but I should hopefully have more time to write over the next few days and fill out my backlog of drafts.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the family gets to share a nice meal together.

The faint sensation of Sari’s watch vibrating on her wrist tore her out of a dreamless sleep and she grimaced to herself as she carefully tapped the watch’s face to silence the alarm; three hours of sleep were _not_ enough after the day they had had. To her surprise, Din didn’t so much as stir against her at the sensation of her watch buzzing against his back, his breathing still deep and slow as he remained tucked against her side. She was hesitant to wake him, but knew they needed to meet the contact with information on other Mandalorians soon, so she pressed a kiss to his temple gently.

“Din?” she prompted gently to avoid startling him and he turned his face into her neck wordlessly, the only sign that he had heard her at all. “Time to wake up, kar’ta’ner.”

“‘M up,” he slurred groggily, but made no move to get up.

Sari couldn’t help but smile; she didn’t think she had ever seen Din as lethargic as he was now - he really _must_ have been exhausted - and she found herself impulsively brushing another kiss against his forehead and then against the tip of his nose before craning her neck down to peck his cheek.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured fondly between each kiss she pressed into his skin, “Cyare. Light of my life.”

“That’s saccharine, mesh’la,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck and she wondered how he was capable of using a big word like “saccharine” when he seemed barely functional otherwise.

“Says the sap who calls me ‘beautiful’ every chance he gets, whether it’s true or not,” she teased.

“It _is_ true,” he retorted stubbornly.

“Lies and slander.” Grinning despite herself, she ducked her head to slot her mouth over his and he leaned up to kiss her back languidly, smiling sleepily against her lips. “We need to get up,” she reminded him as she pulled back reluctantly.

“Five more minutes,” he sighed contentedly, tucking his head back underneath her chin, and she knew he had shut his eyes again when his eyelashes fluttered, tickling her collarbone.

“Okay,” she conceded, kissing his forehead again. “Five more minutes.”

Omera had asked her several times throughout the years when she planned to settle down somewhere and she had never actively considered it before - _it’s not in the cards for me, Omera, I just like traveling too much, and what am I gonna do sticking around one place forever, anyway, stew in my own head for the rest of my life?_ \- but now she was beginning to think she could live with something more permanent if it meant she would get to wake up more often like this, warm and safe with contentment settling deep in her bones in a way she had never thought possible before Din and Grogu had entered her life.

“I don’t even have any Force powers and I can hear you thinking,” Din broke their comfortable silence, finally sounding a little more alert and dragging her back to reality as he turned his head to press a kiss just above the neckline of her shirt. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m thinking I want to wake up like this every day,” she admitted honestly, brushing her fingers through the soft curls of hair at the nape of his neck as she felt his lips curve up into a smile against her skin.

“Me, too. This is nice.” He tilted his head to brush a kiss gingerly against her left shoulder through her shirt. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Back to normal,” she reassured him.

“Good.” He leaned up to kiss her again before pushing himself into a sitting position reluctantly.

She could hear him stifle a yawn beside her as she blindly reached down to the floor, finding the smooth, curved surface of his helmet right next to the bed and picking it up. She had never held his helmet before without him guiding her hands, but it felt right to climb into his lap and steal one last chaste kiss to his lips before sliding his helmet over his head until she heard it click into place.

“You’re making it very difficult to willingly leave this bed,” he warned her, a smile in his voice as her hands trailed down from his helmet to slip over his shoulders in a loose embrace; to her relief, he didn’t seem upset that she had handled his helmet for him.

“You had your chance to get out of bed before and you squandered it,” she reminded him cheekily, but then felt his fingers dig into the ticklish spots under her ribs. “Wait, no, Din, please, I take it back, I’ll let you get up,” she said hurriedly, attempting to squirm away, but his arms locked around her, holding her in place as his fingers danced along her sides.

With a broad smile, she buried her face into her partner’s warm shoulder and gave into the involuntary giggling fit he was pulling from her, all the while savoring the soft, genuine laughter it earned from him in return; she could live with something more permanent if it meant hearing that sound more often, too.

* * *

“Boo-wah,” Grogu said dreamily as Sari descended the ramp of the Razor Crest, entranced by the massive chunk of krayt dragon meat roasting on the spit in front of him. “Boooo-wah. Raaaaaah.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, kiddo, but same,” she agreed as she scooped up the child to keep him from getting too close to the podracer engine Peli had set up to use as a heat source to cook the dragon meat. “You’re lucky we’re someplace safe or I’d scold you for wandering out of the ship like that on your own.”

“Boo-ee!” he greeted her cheerfully, deliberately ignoring her subtle warning as he patted her cheek.

“Hi, sunshine,” she crooned fondly, kissing the top of his head; she couldn’t pretend to be annoyed with him when he was smiling at her so widely. “You sleep okay?”

He chirped in confirmation, nestling against her shoulder happily before asking, “Eh?”

“Your buir and I slept well, too,” she reassured him. “He’s just putting away the armor we got from the marshal, but he’ll be out soon. Where’s Peli?”

“Bwah.” Grogu pointed across the hangar and Sari carried him to Peli’s office, peering inside.

“Hey,” she greeted as Peli looked up from the ancient datapad on her desk, grinning.

“Hey, yourself, sleeping beauty. Your contact should be here in another half hour or so. I was gonna call you out here earlier, but Mando looked real beat when I saw him and I figured you were no better.”

“Well, we _did_ walk several miles in the desert,” Sari pointed out with a mild shrug. “Anything you need doing while the meat cooks?”

“Think you can get some peppers and onions chopped up to stir-fry with it?” Peli nodded to the adjacent kitchenette. “Bright Eyes probably won’t eat them, but you know me, I won’t turn my nose up at a little heat.”

“Mando likes peppers, too,” Sari agreed; she had noticed how Din always reached for the soup cans labeled with multiple chili peppers to indicate how spicy it was. “If he comes out of the ship, let him know where I’ll be?”

“Will do,” Peli confirmed and Sari carried Grogu into the kitchenette, setting him on the countertop.

“Now don’t be a little brat and shove any pepper strips into your mouth,” she warned as she brought out a cutting board and a knife before grabbing a fiery red pepper to begin chopping it into long strips. “It _will_ burn and you _will_ cry.”

“Feh,” Grogu protested.

“Hey, was I or was I not right about the spotchka?” she reminded him and he blew a raspberry at her sulkily, remembering that incident vividly. “Exactly. When I tell you to avoid something, there’s a reason for it.”

“Patu?” Grogu pleaded.

Sari sighed wearily, reaching for a cup to pour some bantha milk into it in preparation before gently pressing a tiny piece of pepper into Grogu’s mouth for him. Sure enough, his little green face flushed bright red within seconds and he stuck his tongue out, panting.

“Told you,” she said wryly, pressing the cup of milk to his lips for him as he gulped it down greedily.

“Don’t tell me you fed him a pepper,” Din said from the doorway to the kitchenette, sounding amused.

“He asked me to,” she defended herself. “Besides, he knows better now. Right, bud?”

Grogu glared balefully at her between sips of milk, his eyes watering. “Bleh.”

“In Mando’a, that’s called heturam,” Din supplied and Sari wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or Grogu; he seemed to have taken to teaching the child phrases in Mando’a just as frequently as he taught her. “The feeling of heat in your mouth. Most of the Mandalorian food I grew up with is spicy enough to numb anyone’s taste buds.”

“No wonder you always reach for the spiciest food in our rations,” she realized and he tilted his helmet at her curiously.

“You noticed that?”

She shrugged, setting aside Grogu’s cup once it was empty and returning to chopping peppers. “Well, yeah, that’s why I’m setting most of these peppers aside for you. Pass me an onion?” Din placed the onion on the counter beside her. “Thanks.” She bumped her shoulder lightly against his before going back to chopping the vegetables and piling the strips into a bowl. Her eyes stung as she began to cut the onion, but she blinked quickly to dismiss the tears and added to distract herself, “Tell me more about the food you grew up eating. What was your favorite?”

“It’s called tiingilar,” he admitted, his visor fixed on her as she worked. “A baked casserole with ground meat and peppers like these, along with other spices and herbs for flavor. It’s hard to describe the taste - most people can’t even get past the heat to taste it properly - but if we had all the ingredients and a kitchen, I could make it for you sometime.”

“You cook?” Sari raised her eyebrows, surprised, and he shrugged modestly.

“I can. I just never have the time or the inclination to.”

“Is there anything you _can’t_ do?” she demanded and he huffed a chuckle.

“I ask myself the same thing about you often.”

“I can’t cook at all,” she confessed. “I can cut vegetables, but that’s the extent of my talent in the kitchen.”

“Well, between the two of us, we’ve got cooking covered if we ever have the time and space for it.” Din pressed his helmet against her forehead in a brief mirshmure’cya. “What about you? What was your favorite food growing up?”

“Does spotchka count?” she joked.

“I said _growing up_ , you lush,” he reminded her with an elbow to her side, but she could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“I don’t drink _that_ often,” she protested with a laugh as she elbowed him back between his armor plates before finally admitting, “I loved oranges growing up. We had them every morning with breakfast because my adoptive mom used to make me and Omera eat at least one fruit or vegetable with every meal. Oranges still might be my favorite food, actually, I always think of my childhood every time I see them - not that they’re easy to find outside of Sorgan.”

“Hmm,” was all Din said thoughtfully in response.

“What?” Sari peered up at him curiously.

“Nothing,” he dismissed.

“Ooh,” Grogu’s curious coo distracted Sari and she glanced over just in time to find him reaching for a piece of chopped onion eagerly.

“How many times do I have to teach you this lesson, kid?” she asked wryly and the child froze with a startled squeak, caught red-handed.

“I’ll get him out of your way,” Din decided, scooping the child off the counter. “Will you be done here soon?”

“Maybe in another few minutes and then all that’s left is to stir-fry everything,” she reasoned, glancing at the remaining peppers and onions on the cutting board. “Why?”

“Just have to find something in town,” he said vaguely.

“Why?” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought we had all the supplies we needed.”

“I forgot something,” he lied blatantly and she gave up on trying to get answers from him.

“Fine, just come back soon so you can eat before our contact shows up. I’ll make up a plate and put it in the ship for you.”

“Thanks.” He ducked his head to press his visor against her hair briefly before carrying Grogu out of the kitchenette, vanishing out of sight.

Shaking her head at her partner’s mysteriousness, Sari went back to chopping the last of the vegetables, depositing the dirty knife and cutting board into the dishwasher and washing her hands clean in the sink before grabbing the bowl.

“Got the veggies ready to go, Peli,” she called into the adjacent office.

“Give ‘em here.” Peli accepted the bowl of vegetables from Sari, taking them over to the makeshift spit and collecting some grease drippings from the chunk of krayt dragon meat in a pan before pouring the peppers and onions into the pan and setting it over the podracer engine. The scent of the sautéing vegetables combined with the cooked dragon meat reminded Sari’s stomach just how empty it was as she settled on the ground beside Peli. “Mando treating you right these days?” Peli asked as she stirred the vegetables with a pair of metal tongs.

“He is,” Sari promised. “He and Grogu are everything to me.”

Peli’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline at the sincerity in her voice, her expression startled and pleased.

“Well, good,” she said, relieved. “I’ve known you a while now, and truth be told, I was beginning to worry you’d be traveling on your own forever. Don’t get me wrong - if that’s what suits ya, it’s all well and dandy. But you seem - I don’t know - _better_ with the two of them around. Happier.”

“I am,” Sari confirmed as she grabbed a fork and speared a cooked onion to pop it into her mouth, smirking around her mouthful even as Peli swatted at her hand.

“Hey, wait ‘til it’s ready!” she scolded even as she grinned broadly back at Sari before glancing into the pan thoughtfully. “Which it looks like it is, so I guess that’s good timing.”

“I’m gonna take a plate into the ship for Mando to eat when he gets back,” Sari explained as she carved a few slices of krayt dragon meat onto a plate and added more than half of the peppers and onions for Din, leaving the rest of the vegetables for Peli and herself. “Can you cut up some plain meat for Grogu?”

“Sure thing,” Peli agreed.

Sari headed into the ship with Din’s plate, setting it against the wall and covering it with a lid so that the food would remain warm for his sake.

“Well, hey, Mando, you’re back quick,” she heard Peli call from outside. “Find what you needed in town?”

“I did,” Din answered as Sari descended the ramp again, noticing that Grogu was tucked in the crook of his arm and he held something else in his other hand. “Here, this is for you,” he added, setting the child down before holding out the unknown circular object to Sari.

She took it, bewildered, and then realized what she was holding - the fruit’s bright peel was unmistakable and the faint scent drifting up from it reminded her of her home village on Sorgan.

“You went out just to get me an orange?” she asked, stunned.

“Well, it’s not the same kind you’d get on Sorgan,” he admitted, scuffing the toe of his boot self-consciously against the ground. “It’s a Tatooinian blood orange, so it’s probably more tart than you’re used to, but you said oranges were your favorite food and I thought you might like-”

“It’s perfect,” she interrupted him, her voice cracking with emotion despite herself, and saw Peli inch away out of the corner of her eye, vanishing back into her office subtly to give them space.

“Are you crying over an _orange_?” Din asked incredulously.

“Shut up, this is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Sari swiped at her stinging eyes with the sleeve of her free arm.

“ _This_ is?” He glanced back and forth between her face and the blood orange in her hand, clearly baffled. “The bar was set so much lower than I thought.”

“Come here.” She hauled him into a tight embrace, still clutching the orange as she pressed a firm kiss against the side of his helmet. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, mesh’la,” he answered with a wry chuckle, ducking his head against her shoulder. “Even if you’re a sap who cries over fruit.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you,” she threatened mildly as she pulled back, swatting his arm lightly.

“But who will buy you oranges, then?” he teased and she rolled her eyes goodnaturedly before leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Thank you, Din,” she said sincerely. “Really. This was very sweet of you.”

He shrugged modestly. “It was nothing. The market was open and not far from here.”

“Still, I appreciate it.” She kissed his chin again. “Your plate’s inside, by the way. I’ll save half of the orange for you.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed her hip briefly before releasing her and heading into the ship, scooping up the plate and disappearing into their sleeping berth to eat his meal.

“You weren’t kidding, he really _does_ treat you right,” Peli teased as she returned from her office.

“I’m an emotional wreck over an _orange_ ,” Sari said, shaking her head wryly at herself as she sat down on the edge of the Razor Crest’s ramp and hauled Grogu into her lap. “Sari from a year ago would time-travel to the future just to kick my ass over this.”

“Sari from a year ago was also not even remotely the same person you are now,” Peli reminded her, holding out two plates of krayt dragon meat. One had a decent portion of peppers and onions on it to indicate that it was for Sari. “So enjoy that orange your fella bought you and quit complaining. And don’t even think about splitting it with me, either, I’m not keen on sweet stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sari conceded, taking the offered plates to begin feeding pieces to Grogu one at a time between bites of her own meal as Peli returned to her office with her own plate to eat as she worked.

Grogu swallowed each chunk of meat with gusto, smacking his lips delightedly as he ate and babbling to himself between bites, and Sari peeled her blood orange slowly once she finished her dragon meat, splitting it first in half before saving one dark red segment for Grogu while keeping the other half of the fruit aside for Din to eat later.

She popped a segment of the remaining orange half into her mouth, smiling faintly; while Din had been right that it was more tart than an orange from Sorgan, it had a pleasant raspberry-like aftertaste on top of the regular citrus flavor. Grogu cooed with delight as well once he began to gnaw on his blood orange segment after he finished his meal, the juice staining his hands as he ate.

“Patu,” he informed Sari as he licked his fingers clean once he swallowed the last of his fruit.

“Yeah?” She grinned, popping her last orange segment into her mouth before adding, “Tell your buir that when he comes back outside, I bet he’ll be glad to hear it.”

“What will I be glad to hear?” Din asked from behind her as he returned with his empty plate.

“Patu!” Grogu repeated, his large eyes crinkling in a smile up at Din.

“Grogu wants you to know that he liked the orange,” Sari translated as she passed Din the fruit half she had reserved for him. “I liked it, too.”

“You’re right, I _am_ glad to hear that.” He gave Grogu another orange segment before taking a seat beside Sari on the Razor Crest’s ramp, pressing their shoulders together comfortably.

“I’m starting to think that sound means he’s either thinking about food or he’s enjoying whatever he’s eating,” she mused as she watched Grogu begin chewing on his newly acquired piece of fruit.

“Can’t you read his mind and find out?” Din reminded her.

“Yeah, but only if he projects what he’s thinking at me or if I concentrate really hard on him,” she clarified. “Otherwise, it’s the same guessing game as with anybody.”

“Have you ever read my mind?” His helmet tilted towards her, his shoulders tensing in anticipation of her response.

“I haven’t tried with anyone but Grogu,” she reassured him and he relaxed marginally again. “Did you want me to? With you?” She doubted the answer would be affirmative.

“I don’t know,” he admitted cautiously as he picked apart the segments of the orange half to keep his hands busy. “Maybe someday.” He hesitated before adding, “I was sure you’d tried before - you say you can hear me thinking sometimes.”

“What?” Sari felt her eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “That was a figure of speech, I couldn’t actually hear anything. I’m sorry, I had no idea that’s how it sounded.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Din insisted. “Besides, I’m sure you’re tempted sometimes, especially since you can’t guess what I’m thinking by looking at my face.”

“Sometimes, sure,” she conceded with a small shrug. “But it kind of feels too intimate to try and read your mind.”

“We’re literally sleeping together,” he reminded her wryly, slipping a piece of orange underneath the edge of his helmet to pop it into his mouth. “Intimacy isn’t really a problem for us, is it?”

“First of all, child present,” she scolded even as she glanced down at Grogu quickly, both to make sure he was too preoccupied with eating to pay attention to them and to avoid accidentally catching sight of Din’s jawline until he lowered his helmet again. “And second, that’s different, it’s consensual.”

“I haven’t said ‘no,’” he pointed out.

“I know.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she tried to put her sudden uneasiness at the thought of reading Din’s mind into words. “I just - I know you’re still reserved about a lot of things - especially when it comes to what you’re thinking - so I don’t want to take anything from you that you’re not actually willing to give. Especially the privacy of your own mind.”

Din remained silent, his visor fixed on her for so long that she wondered if she had broken him, but then he finally leaned in to press a mirshmure’cya against her forehead.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked quietly, a faint smile in his voice.

“I ask myself the same thing every day.” She bumped her forehead back against his just a little more firmly. “Eat your orange, Djarin.”

He huffed a chuckle before pulling back to obediently sneak another blood orange segment under the edge of his helmet as she focused on wiping Grogu’s sticky hands clean with the edge of her sleeve.

“I met up with the contact outside,” Peli called from across the hangar and Sari was glad Din had had the chance to finish his orange and secure his helmet again just in time as the mechanic made her way over. “So here’s the deal - a Mandalorian covert is in this sector, one system trailing.”

“That close?” Sari asked, her eyebrows rising as she scooped Grogu up and climbed to her feet.

“Practically in our backyard,” Peli confirmed.

“Are they the ones that left Nevarro?” Sari’s heart twisted at the tentative, raw hope in Din’s voice as he pushed himself to his feet as well.

“No idea,” Peli admitted, “All I know is that the contact will lead you to them.”

“How much will it cost?” Din asked.

“Well, that’s the great news. It’s free. Aside from a finder’s fee, of course,” Peli said cheerfully, but Sari knew her well enough to know when she was holding back information; her eyebrows had begun to twitch at the corners and her eyes darted anxiously between them, as if to gauge their reactions.

“And the not-so-great news you’re trying to avoid telling us?” she pressed and Peli squinted at her suspiciously.

“You’re too perceptive for your own good, you know.”

“It’s like I’m a mind-reader or something,” Sari agreed and Din couldn’t quite stifle a snort of amusement beside her.

Peli eyed him briefly, startled, before confessing, “The contact wants passage to the system.”

He sighed heavily through his nose. “Do you vouch for them?”

“On my life,” she retorted, sounding insulted that he would even ask.

“Fine.” He turned to head for the ship.

“And no hyperdrive,” she added with a preemptive wince at his reaction.

“You want us to travel _sub-light_?” he echoed incredulously, wheeling back around. “No way, deal’s off.”

“It’s only one sector over,” she protested.

“Moving fast is the only thing keeping us safe,” he retorted.

“Wait, slow down, both of you,” Sari protested quickly before the tension between the two of them could grow any further as Grogu’s head turned back and forth between them like he was watching a game of tennis. “Why can’t we use hyperdrive?”

“These are mitigating circumstances,” Peli hedged.

“What do you mean ‘mitigating?’” Din demanded and Sari pressed a hand to the small of his back gently to get his attention.

“There might be a good reason for it,” she offered when his helmet angled down towards her. “Don’t make up your mind just yet.”

“I’m not risking your safety and the kid’s over-” He broke off, his gaze fixing on a point over her head, and she followed his gaze to the contact lingering by the doorway to the hangar.

She was a frog-like alien - Sari vaguely recalled the species as Batrachian, though she had only met one or two of them before - with lilac skin, her webbed fingers clutching a large tank of small orange eggs that she carried like a backpack. Her massive dark eyes blinked wetly as she glanced between them and Peli warily.

“She doesn’t speak Basic,” Peli told Sari even as she waved the Batrachian over, “But I know you speak Batrachian.”

“I can understand it,” Sari clarified, ignoring the incredulous head-turn the revelation earned from her partner; it served him right for not telling her he could speak Tusken. “Can’t speak it at all, my vocal cords are too damaged to try.”

Even a few months ago, she might have felt incredibly self-conscious in revealing that her vocal cords were damaged, but knowing the real reason she had unconsciously suppressed her own voice for a decade oddly made her feel better about admitting it.

“Eh, understanding’s enough,” Peli dismissed with a wave of her hand and Sari let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Just so long as you can communicate somehow.”

“We’re not a taxi service,” Din insisted, placing his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Patu?” Grogu said eagerly from Sari’s arms and she glanced down to see that his large eyes had impossibly widened and were fixed on the tank of eggs the Batrachian was carrying.

“Hey, no,” she scolded, lifting the child to meet his eyes as she narrowed her own in a silent warning to not consider those eggs as food. “No ‘patu.’ Not allowed.”

He blew a sulky raspberry at her even as he wiggled in her arms until he could nestle his small head against her shoulder comfortably. She lowered him back to her hip, settling him there and rubbing his back soothingly.

“She’s got live eggs with her,” she added to Din, whose shoulders were still tense as his helmet swiveled between her, Peli, and the Batrachian. “I’d say that’s about as mitigating as circumstances go. They won’t survive the jump to hyperspace and you know it.”

“They’re her spawn,” Peli explained once she conferred with the Batrachian briefly, the two of them croaking back and forth with each other. “She needs those eggs fertilized by the equinox or her family line will end, and her husband’s settled on the estuary moon of Trask in the system of the gas giant Kol Iben.”

Din tilted his helmet towards Sari curiously. “She said all that?”

“Peli paraphrased for your sake, there was a lot more,” she told him wryly. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

He sighed wearily. “It’s dangerous for us to travel sub-light, Sari, you know that.”

“When else are we going to get another lead on other Mandalorians?” she pressed. “This might be our only shot. If it means a few days without hyperdrive, then we’ll be extra careful.”

He remained silent for a long moment before he finally turned back to Peli reluctantly.

“Is she _sure_ there are Mandalorians there?”

Peli croaked the question to the Batrachian before receiving an affirming ribbit in response. “She said her husband has seen them,” Peli confirmed.

“Do you know her husband?” Din prompted.

“Nope, I just met her today,” Peli answered cheerfully.

“Didn’t you just say you vouched for her with your life?” Sari asked, grinning despite herself.

“I’m an excellent judge of character.” Peli winked before catching Din’s helmet aimed at her in a disapproving stare. “Oh, quit cryin’ about it, tin can, you’ll rust. Look, Sari’s heard the full story and can vouch for her, too, but the lady just wants a ride to Trask. It’s not the far end of the galaxy or anything.”

“She’s got a point,” Sari conceded when his visor swung around to her. “Trask _is_ pretty close by - not that I’ve ever been.”

“Why not?” He tilted his head.

“Estuary means water and water means _oceans_ ,” she reminded him with a shudder at the thought.

“I’ll make sure you don’t have to go into the water,” he promised, sounding amused.

“Does that mean we’re giving the nice frog lady a ride?” She raised her eyebrows hopefully and he sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in surrender.

“Yeah, okay, fine.”

“Patu,” Grogu agreed solemnly from Sari’s hip.

“ _Stop it_ ,” she scolded the child even as his mouth widened into a mischievous smile, his eyes crinkling up at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Kar’ta’ner: my heart  
> Cyare: beloved  
> Mesh'la: beautiful  
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Heturam: mouthburn; a sought-after state of intense burning in the mouth brought about by very spicy food  
> Tiingilar: blisteringly spicy Mandalorian casserole  
> Mirshmure’cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'
> 
> So I took a few liberties with what tiingilar actually is since they never talk about it in the show and I couldn't find any other source for it, but I liked the idea of Din being the chef of the family lol (and honestly Sari needs to not be good at something, so she gets lack of kitchen skills lmao).
> 
> I also made up the species Batrachian (which literally means frog or toad-related) for the frog lady because they never specify her species in the show as far as I know.
> 
> And lastly, return of the patu! I can't get enough of the little canonical sounds Grogu makes in the show, so I love sprinkling them in on top of my own made-up sounds for him lol.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sari and Din consider a possible future and then go on the run from the law.

“Okay, I can’t speak to you, but if you say something to me, I’ll probably understand it,” Din could hear Sari explaining to the Batrachian down in the main corridor of the Crest as he settled into the pilot’s seat.

The Batrachian croaked a question, clearly baffled by whatever Sari had just said; at least now Din knew Peli hadn’t been lying about her not understanding Basic.

“Yeah, I know you don’t understand me.” Sari cleared her throat awkwardly. “Hang on, let me try, um...” She made an odd croaking sound herself - an attempt to speak Batrachian, Din realized belatedly - before promptly coughing and clearing her throat again. “Sorry,” she rasped.

The Batrachian ribbited something that sounded vaguely reassuring.

“Thanks,” Sari answered, sounding mildly disappointed in herself.

“We should be good to go,” Din called down to give her an out.

“Do we want her upstairs?” she asked and he grimaced inwardly at how hoarse her voice sounded from just the brief overexertion.

“Bring her up,” he agreed. “Are the eggs secure?”

“Yep, I tied them down next to our supplies in the cargo hold,” she confirmed as she climbed up the ladder, the Batrachian close behind her. “Grogu’s in his hammock, too, so we’re clear for takeoff.”

She pointed to the third, unused seat behind them - Din didn’t think it had ever been occupied before - and the Batrachian took it, strapping herself in as Sari collapsed into the co-pilot’s seat to do the same.

“How’s your throat?” he asked, not bothering to lower his voice since their passenger couldn’t understand them, anyway.

Sari tapped a few buttons on the control panel before answering, “It’s been better. Feels like it’s made of sandpaper now, and that was just with one sentence in Batrachian.”

“I’m sure she appreciated the effort.” He reached over impulsively, brushing a stray curl of hair out of her face for her, and was rewarded with the smile she always reserved just for him.

The Batrachian croaked curiously behind him and Sari glanced briefly over at her before shaking her head. The frog-like alien ribbited again and Sari laughed suddenly even as she turned faintly pink, visibly embarrassed.

“What did she say?” Din asked, puzzled.

“Later,” Sari dismissed even as she smirked back at him; her response had been deliberately chosen to spite him for all the times he had withheld Mando’a translations from her.

“How the tables have turned,” he said dryly, which seemed to be what she wanted to hear as she grinned broadly and settled her hand on the stabilizing lever. He took the hint, starting up the engines and taking the Razor Crest up and out of Tatooine’s atmosphere.

“We shouldn’t be more than a day or two away from Trask, even without hyperdrive,” she reasoned as the ship leveled out, peering at the navigation system.

“Sure, but we have to worry about pirates and warlords now,” he reminded her and she shrugged mildly.

“We’ve handled worse.” Privately, he agreed, but decided not to say it out loud for fear of jinxing them; their luck seemed abysmal as it was. “Besides, it’s worth the risk.”

“Why?” he blurted out before he could stop himself and Sari’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I mean, dealing with pirates and warlords is one thing, but they’ll either take a nice chunk of change or the entire ship in the process if we don’t put up a decent fight. And with you and Grogu on board, I don’t think-”

“I can look after myself, thanks,” Sari said coolly, cutting him off. To his dismay, her expression had become shuttered and unreadable. “Nice to know you still think I can’t, though. And do you honestly think I can’t protect Grogu?”

“That’s not what I meant, I know what you’re capable of,” Din protested. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re risking it at all just for this. Why does it matter so much to you?”

“I’m gonna head down and get some more sleep,” she said, deliberately not answering him as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got up. “You probably should, too.” She mimed it to the Batrachian as well, who croaked something that seemed to satisfy Sari as she headed for the ladder, vanishing from sight.

Mentally kicking himself for upsetting Sari twice in one day, Din quickly plugged the coordinates for Trask into the navigation system and set it on auto-pilot before climbing to his feet.

“Will, uh, you be okay up here?” he asked belatedly, hoping the Batrachian would understand him, and she ribbited a response he couldn’t comprehend before waving one of her webbed hands towards the ladder.

He decided that meant “yes” and climbed down the ladder just in time to see Sari scooping Grogu up off the floor hurriedly, slamming the lid shut on the tank of Batrachian eggs.

“Do you have any idea what your kid just did?” she demanded.

“I assume something bad if you’re calling him _my_ kid instead of ours,” Din sighed.

“He-” Sari glanced at the ladder cautiously to make sure the Batrachian wasn’t listening before hissing under her breath, “He ate some of her eggs. I don’t even know how many, I just caught him with one in his hand.”

Din felt his mouth fall open involuntarily in shock, though he knew Sari couldn’t see it. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m telling you, that weird noise he makes means ‘food,’” she insisted before settling Grogu in her arms and scolding the child, “You can’t eat any more eggs, I mean it.”

“Patu?” He tilted his head, his large ears flopping with the motion.

“No! Stop that!” She shook her head frantically. “I don’t care how delicious they are! They’re _babies_ , Grogu!”

Din had to bite back a smile despite himself; the situation was hardly funny at all, and yet he couldn’t help it in the face of Sari’s abject horror.

“To be fair, they’re technically not babies until they’re fertilized,” he offered, but immediately regretted it when she leveled a scandalized look at him.

“Don’t encourage him! I _knew_ I should’ve gone vegan after the Jawas ruined the word ‘egg’ for me, now I feel _bad_ for eggs!”

Her lips had begun to twitch upwards into a smile despite herself, though, and Din knew she was thinking the same thing he was: had that really only been months earlier? It felt more like a lifetime had passed since they had been tasked by the Jawas to retrieve the mudhorn egg in return for the Razor Crest’s parts. They had still been practically strangers then, too unsure of each other and the child they now considered theirs.

“Eeehh,” the child in question whined, squirming in Sari’s hands and drawing their attention back to him.

“Alright, you’re officially in time-out,” she decided, carrying Grogu back to his hammock and depositing him into it unceremoniously. “No coming out until after you’ve thought about the consequences of your actions. And don’t pretend you don’t know what that means because I know you do.”

Grogu blinked at her, wide-eyed and stunned, before tentatively lifting a hand to wave at her; Din assumed he was signing the simplified _I love you_ she had taught him.

“Yeah, okay, I love you, too,” Sari sighed, confirming his suspicion. “But that doesn’t mean you’re instantly allowed out of baby jail.”

Grogu burbled quietly and reached out to pat Sari’s cheek carefully.

“I know, bud,” she agreed. “Which is why it’s nap time right now for everybody.”

“What’s he saying?” Din asked, wishing - not for the first time - that he didn’t feel quite so left out when the two of them had secret conversations in their heads.

“He thinks I look tired,” Sari admitted.

“You do,” he confirmed, taking in the dark circles under her eyes; he knew she hadn’t slept much even before they had confronted the krayt dragon, too distracted with her vague dreams about laser swords and the Force, and their three hours of sleep before the Batrachian had shown up likely hadn’t put much of a dent in her exhaustion - not that he himself was much better off. “Go lie down, mesh’la. I’m gonna secure the eggs better and join you.”

“Yeah, okay,” she conceded, disappearing into the sleeping berth beside Grogu’s and letting the door slide shut behind her. Din hoped that meant she wasn’t too upset with him, after all.

“She’s right, for the record,” he added to the child, who blinked owlishly at him. “You can’t eat those eggs.” Grogu chirped back at him and he chose to interpret that as a concession. “Great, glad we’re on the same page. Sleep tight, kid.”

He nudged the child down into his hammock before shutting the door and then moving the tank of Batrachian eggs to a more secure location in the cargo hold. Once the tank was tied down, he hoped it was enough to deter Grogu from going after the eggs again as he headed for the sleeping berth he and Sari shared.

She was still wide awake and sprawled out on their bed, smiling faintly when he entered.

“Hey,” she greeted as the door slid shut behind them, leaving them in darkness.

“Hi.” He took off his helmet, setting it on the floor before leaning down to press his lips to her forehead briefly.

“Not taking off the rest of the armor?” she guessed.

“It’ll take too long to put back on,” he confirmed, “Especially when we’ve got company on the ship.”

“Okay.” She shuffled over as he settled on the bed next to her before curling into his side. She never complained about sleeping against his armor, though he doubted it was comfortable for her. “She asked if you were my husband,” she explained as she nestled her head against his shoulder. “When I didn’t translate for you, that’s what she was saying.”

He nearly choked on air. “What?”

“Relax, that’s why I shook my head to tell her we weren’t married,” she reassured him. “And then she apologized for assuming.”

“Was that what made you laugh?” He couldn’t imagine why that was the case.

“No.” He could feel her lips curve up into a smile against his neck. “I laughed because she said she only assumed we were married because even through the helmet, she could tell you were looking at me the way her husband always looked at her. I just thought that was really sweet, even if it might not have been true.”

“It probably was.” He ducked his head to press a kiss against her forehead again before asking impulsively before he could think better of it, “Do you _want_ to be married?”

“Well, as far as proposals go, that wasn’t terrible, if you were serious,” Sari said after a moment, her tone too neutral for him to guess what she was thinking.

“Depends on your answer,” he admitted. Now that the question was out in the open, it hung heavily in the air, making it harder for him to breathe. “We’re already clanmates. It’s not that insane to consider riduurok \- marriage,” he translated belatedly.

“It’s not,” she allowed and to his relief, she didn’t sound upset at the idea; if anything, he could still feel her smiling against his skin.

“You’d get to call me your husband if anyone asks - or riduur, if they know Mando’a,” he offered and she muffled a quiet laugh into his neck.

“Din Djarin, are you trying to sell me on marrying you?”

“Depends, is it working?” he asked, unable to help a smile despite himself at the sound of her laughter.

“It might be.” She shifted slightly, pushing herself up just enough to kiss him, and he melted into the warmth of her palms pressing gently against his cheeks to cup his face as her lips slid against his lazily. “Give me another reason and find out,” she added teasingly as she pulled away, kissing the tip of his nose lightly.

“The Mandalorian marriage rite is short,” he informed her, “Just four vows in Mando’a for us to repeat after each other.”

“Only four? Sounds simple enough.” Her lips trailed over his pulse point as her hands slid down and then over his shoulders to card loosely through the hair at the back of his head. He tilted his head back to give her more room to access his neck. “What other selling points have you got?”

“You’d get to see my face,” he blurted out before he could stop himself and she froze against him. “Spouses and children are allowed to see a Mandalorian’s face by Creed,” he clarified when there was no response.

Sari remained as silent and still as a statue for so long that Din began to worry he’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry, I’m pressuring you, I didn’t mean to-” he began hurriedly.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she interrupted him. “Sorry, it kind of just hit me that we’re actually talking about this. But you’re not pressuring me into anything, I promise.” His heart resumed beating as she leaned up to brush a tender kiss against his forehead. “I’m happy with just this, you know. I don’t have to see your face to love you.”

He felt his heart leap into his throat and stick there at how easily she said it, as if it didn’t bother her one bit that all of her knowledge of what he looked like had been gained from stolen touches and kisses in the dark.

“And if I _wanted_ you to see my face?” he asked carefully.

“Do you?” He felt her lips press against his hairline delicately and shut his eyes tightly against the overwhelming flood of emotions that accompanied the kiss. “I always assumed it would make you uncomfortable after all these years without showing your face to anyone.”

“It would be something to get used to,” he conceded. “Just like it took time to get used to you touching me at all.”

“I can always stop if it’s bothering you,” she offered, making as if to pull back, but he reached up to catch her wrists.

“Don’t you dare,” he threatened mildly and felt her smile against his forehead.

“You like it that much when I play with your hair?” she teased.

“As if that was a question you needed answered.” He pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw softly - the same way she always snuck kisses to him while he still had his helmet on - and she shivered against him. “It’s one of my favorite things that you do when we’re alone.”

“It’s one of mine, too,” she confessed before stealing another peck to his forehead and then tilting her head down to press their foreheads together. “Ask me to marry you again later and I’ll say ‘yes,’” she promised.

“What if I asked you again right now?” he prompted, more out of curiosity than anything. Her fingers remained loosely tangled in his hair, so he felt safe in releasing her wrists again and dropping his hands back to her waist.

“I’d say this is the last thing we should be rushing into,” she said quietly after a moment. “And that I don’t want you to regret it.”

“Why would I regret it?” Din asked, bewildered; the thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

Sari shrugged wordlessly as she shifted slightly against him, though he wasn’t sure if it was because she was leaning against his armor or if she was just uncomfortable at the idea of answering him.

“Sari, why would I regret marrying you?” he insisted.

She swallowed audibly. “I just - your Creed’s so important to you and I don’t want you to regret breaking it for me if you find someone else and-”

“Someone else?” he interrupted incredulously and she abruptly fell silent. “Do you honestly think there’s anyone else for me? Is there for you?” He stamped down the instinctive twinge of jealousy at the thought.

“What?” She sounded confused. “Of course not. I was just throwing some hypotheticals out there.”

“Well, get _that_ hypothetical in particular out of your mind,” he said, the fervor in his voice startling even him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before he knew it, she was eagerly crushing her mouth against his, her fingers tightening in his hair, and he pulled her close instinctively, his arms sliding around her waist to clutch her like a lifeline.

“So are you for me,” she breathed into the kiss. “And _you_ -” She broke off to nip at his lower lip before pulling back to press warm, open-mouthed kisses against his jaw that made him shiver. “-are lucky we have company upstairs or I’d be trying to get your armor off this instant.”

“Doesn’t that make me unlucky?” he wondered dazedly and she muffled a soft chuckle against his skin before pulling away again, pressing their foreheads back together.

“I’m sorry I got upset earlier on the bridge when you asked me why this mattered so much to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he reassured her.

“No, I should.” She hesitated before admitting, “Truth is, Peli cut out a lot while paraphrasing earlier. The Batrachian was actually telling us all about how much she missed her husband and how he’d gone to Trask ahead of her to set a life up for her and their potential kids and - I don’t know, I just really want it to work out for them. It kind of hits close to home for me.”

“It does?” Din asked, surprised.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I’m starting to think I kind of want that someday. I mean, definitely not on Trask, because _fuck oceans_ -” He had to bite back a laugh at the vehemency of Sari’s hatred for deep water, of all things. “-but, y’know, someplace else would be nice, I guess.” She shrugged uncomfortably at her own confession, tucking her head underneath his chin. “I don’t know. It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” he insisted; while it hadn’t been the first time the thought had crossed his mind, he hadn’t known she had considered it herself.

“You’re obligated to say that because you just sold me on the concept of marriage,” she pointed out wryly. “And terribly, I might add.”

“You asked me to,” he protested, earning a soft laugh against the hollow of his throat that made his heart skip a beat; he wanted to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life. “Do you really want that? To settle down somewhere, start a family?”

“Maybe, sort of,” she wavered; he had never heard her sound so uncertain of anything in all the time he’d known her. “It was just a thought, it’s not a big deal or any-”

“Are you refusing to give me a straight answer because you’re worried I don’t want that?” he interrupted her and felt his heart twist painfully when she pressed a tentative nod into his neck. “Well, I do,” he confessed. “If it’s with you, of course I do. It’s been in the back of my mind ever since our first trip to Sorgan, when you suggested that we all stay in your village.”

“Yeah?” She cracked a small smile that he could feel against his pulse point. “All the way back then?”

“All the way back then,” he confirmed.

“Why only if it’s with me?” she asked curiously.

“You’re a good mother to our foundling,” he admitted and her breathing hitched slightly. “You’d be a good one to any future children, too, if that was what you wanted.”

“Well, you’d be a good father, just like you are with our foundling now. And I _do_ want that, for the record.” She tilted her head to press a kiss against the crook of his neck even as his eyes stung sharply at the affirmation. “Okay. We can think about it someday.”

“Someday,” he echoed, tightening his hold on her as his heart pounded in his throat at the thought.

Sari suddenly muffled a laugh into his neck, making him jump involuntarily in surprise.

“What is it?” he asked, startled.

“Nothing.” She shook her head, her lips still curved into a smile against his skin. “Just remembered something I told Peli earlier - that Sari from a year ago would’ve kicked my ass if she saw me getting weepy over an orange.”

“It _was_ very dramatic of you,” Din confirmed and Sari elbowed him pointedly between his armor plates as he smirked, knowing she couldn’t see it in the dark.

“You hush,” she said sharply, “The gesture was incredibly sweet and I love you so much that it scares me sometimes.” He felt his smile fade as he swallowed back the lump in his throat, unsure if he could find the words to even compete with a declaration like that as she added, “Anyway, I was just thinking now that Sari from a year ago would actually murder me if she knew I was considering getting married and settling down somewhere. A lot’s changed in a short time.”

“It’s terrifying,” he admitted when he could finally get his vocal cords to work.

“It is,” she agreed to his relief. “But in a good way.”

She leaned up to kiss him again and he pulled her closer, smiling broadly against her lips and feeling more hopeful for the future than he could ever recall feeling in his life.

* * *

Sari wasn’t sure how long she and Din had slept after they had dozed off while trading lazy kisses back and forth - perhaps an hour or two, at most - but she was dragged back to the realm of consciousness by the sound of a beeping alarm echoing through the ship loudly.

“I’m going to see what that is, go back to sleep,” Din mumbled around a yawn, pressing a kiss against her temple before untangling himself from her and sliding out of bed to grab his helmet and head up to the bridge.

Sari debated whether to try allowing herself to drift back into sleep, but decided against it; her dream had been edging far too close to a nightmare for comfort as a krayt dragon had loomed closer, threatening to swallow her, Din, and Grogu whole. Scrubbing a hand over her face to make herself a little more alert, she climbed out of bed to join Din in the cockpit.

“-noticed your transponder is not emitting,” someone was saying over the comms as she settled into the co-pilot’s chair. The Batrachian was fast asleep in her chair, her arms folded and her head tucked down into her chest.

“Yes, I’m pre-Empire surplus. I’m not required to run a beacon,” Din responded, his helmet turning briefly in Sari’s direction and tilting in a silent question. She shook her head; she didn’t want to go back to sleep.

“That was before. This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All crafts are required to run a beacon,” the comms answered and Sari inwardly swore when she glanced out the window and found X-Wings hovering on either side of the Razor Crest.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get right on it,” Din answered stiffly.

“Not a problem. Safe travels,” the New Republic officer offered.

“May the Force be with you,” Din said after a moment’s hesitation and Sari had to bite her lip hard to muffle a laugh. His helmet snapped towards her, but she shook her head again, grinning despite herself.

“And also with you,” the New Republic officer answered lightly.

“That wasn’t funny,” Din said sharply as he muted himself on the comms just in time for Sari to give in to a fit of quiet giggles, mindful of the sleeping Batrachian on the other side of the cockpit.

“Neither of us have any idea what the Force even _is_.” His visor remained disapprovingly fixed on her, which only served to make her giggle harder; maybe the sleep deprivation was getting to her.

“Just one more thing,” the comms crackled suddenly and she quickly stifled her laughter once more as Din fumbled to unmute himself.

“Yes?” he asked warily.

“I’m gonna need you to send us a ping. We’re out here sweeping for Imperial holdouts.”

“I’ll let you know if I see any,” Din agreed.

There was a long pause before the New Republic officer said slowly, “I’m still gonna need you to send that ping.”

“Well, I, uh…” Din fumbled slightly with the control panel. “I-I’m not sure I have that hardware online.”

“We can wait,” the New Republic officer said and Din’s shoulders tensed as Sari motioned for him to mute himself again, all amusement gone now.

“Pretty sure we _do_ have that hardware online,” she reminded him. “Why not just send the ping?”

“The New Republic isn’t exactly pleased with us for breaking Qin out back at that prison ship,” he pointed out. “The moment they register a ping from us, they’ll figure out exactly who we are.”

“Fair point, I forgot about that.” She frowned thoughtfully before motioning for him to pass her the commlink. “Give it here, maybe they’ll leave us alone if we don’t sound as suspicious. And I’m more friendly than you.”

“Don’t think I won’t remember that you said that,” he threatened before pressing the device into her hand.

“Love you, too.” She pecked the side of his helmet before unmuting the commlink. “Howdy, co-pilot here,” she said cheerfully and watched Din press his visor into his gloved hands out of the corner of her eye, his shoulders trembling slightly with barely suppressed laughter of his own. “My partner’s looking into getting the hardware online to send that ping out, but we might be a little while.”

“No problem,” the officer replied. “We’ve got all day.”

Sari muted herself just long enough to mutter “for fuck’s sake, take the hint” - which earned another stifled snort of amusement from Din - before unmuting herself again and answering politely as if she hadn’t just been swearing, “I mean, at this rate, it really _might_ take all day. This ship is _ancient_.” She patted the console in a silent apology to the ship she had come to consider her home.

“Well, that’s too bad,” the New Republic officer said, “If we can’t confirm you’re not Imperial, you’re gonna have to follow us to the outpost at Adelphi and they’ll run your tabs.”

“Found it,” Din said a little too quickly and loudly. “Transmitting now.” He flipped off the auto-pilot and hesitated briefly before pressing the button to transmit a ping. The Batrachian woke up with a startled croak and Sari fumbled to mute herself quickly even as Din hissed at the frog-like alien, “Quiet!”

She hoped the sound hadn’t gone through, but grimaced when the New Republic officer asked, “What was that?”

“Sorry, didn’t hit ‘mute’ fast enough,” she apologized guiltily even as Din took the commlink back and unmuted it, shaking his head back at her to silently reassure her that it wasn’t her fault.

“It’s nothing. The hypervac is drawing off the exhaust manifold,” he lied into the commlink and quickly muted himself again.

The Batrachian glanced around agitatedly, letting out increasingly frantic croaks until Sari turned to her and pointedly pressed her finger to her lips. Realizing the situation, the Batrachian ducked her head guiltily and fell silent.

“Carson, can you switch over to Channel Two?” the other X-Wing pilot asked abruptly over the comms.

“Copy,” the first person said before a click indicated that the switch had taken place.

“So what now?” Sari asked quietly and Din sighed heavily.

“Go grab the kid, and fast. They’ll be onto us soon.”

She scrambled out of her seat, jumping down to the main corridor and scooping Grogu out of his hammock before returning to the bridge quickly, ignoring how the child burbled sleepily at his rude awakening as she climbed the ladder again.

“I can’t believe I’m about to go on the run from X-Wings twice in less than six months,” she complained as she sank back into the co-pilot’s seat and buckled herself in tightly, watching the X-Wings begin to shift into attack position.

“Fingers crossed that the Crest is faster than the Interstellar was,” Din agreed wryly.

“That’s not a high standard,” she admitted, nestling Grogu against her shoulder and patting his back as his large eyes slid back shut again in an attempt to keep dozing. “The Interstellar was a piece of junk.”

“ _Your_ piece of junk,” he reminded her and she could hear the small smile in his voice despite the obvious tension in his shoulders.

“Also true. Rest in pieces, Interstellar, you were absolute trash,” she addressed the ceiling fondly and Din snorted quietly with barely stifled laughter.

“Was your craft in the proximity of New Republic Correctional Transport Bothan-Five?” the comms crackled suddenly.

Din took it as the cue to push the accelerator forward, the ship zooming towards the nearest planet as the Batrachian shrieked, startled by the abrupt movement. Grogu jerked fully awake in Sari’s arms, but thankfully didn’t scream, instead only blinking bemusedly up at her.

“Well, at least one of us is staying calm,” Sari muttered as she reached for the stabilizing lever to hold it steady as they entered the atmosphere of the blue and white planet. “Where are we?” she called to Din over the rattling of the ship and the Batrachian’s anxious croaks.

“Maldo Kreis,” he answered distractedly, pulling a lever so that they leveled out just above a thick, heavy layer of clouds. “Snow and ice as far as the eye can see.”

“Razor Crest, stand down,” the comms crackled and Sari craned her neck to see the X-Wings still pursuing them. “We will fire. Repeat, we _will_ fire.”

“Sure we can outfly them?” she asked Din, ignoring the comms.

“We can make it,” he answered tersely, flipping a switch on the control panel before pushing the ship down into a cloud bank in an attempt to lose the X-Wings. Grogu threw his arms into the air as the ship rattled loudly again, laughing wildly.

“How are you having _fun_ right now?” Sari demanded incredulously and he only giggled again in response. “Adrenaline junkie,” she grumbled, tightening her hold on him as Din pulled the Razor Crest around another cloud bank.

“Don’t get mad,” he told her.

“Why?” she demanded warily.

“Because I’m about to cut the engines.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” she threatened, but Din had already flipped the switch and the ship spiraled into a free-fall.

The Batrachian screamed, clutching the armrests of her seat even as Sari felt her stomach flip uncomfortably, Grogu squealing happily in her arms the whole time.

“You’re going to get us killed,” she warned, peering anxiously out the window at the clouds rushing up around them.

“I’ve got it handled,” Din insisted, bringing the engines back online just as the icy ground below came into view and navigating the ship down into a glacial canyon.

“Come on, Razor Crest, don’t make us do it,” the comms crackled and Sari glanced out the window to find the X-Wings still following them closely.

“Any other bright ideas, daredevil?” she asked dryly as she turned back to Din.

“One.” He turned the ship sharply until they flew into a narrow crevice in the side of the glacier, jagged icicles surrounding the ship and threatening to impale the metal hull as they soared through the ice cavern. The X-Wings zoomed past the crevice, seemingly not noticing them.

Sari winced when the back of the ship slammed roughly into the side of the glacier as the gap grew narrower and Grogu’s giggling immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he realized the gravity of the situation.

“Uh-oh,” he chirped worriedly and Din’s helmet whipped around to the child, startled, as Sari snorted with laughter despite herself.

“That’s _entirely_ on you for making those his first words in Basic,” she told him wryly. “Eyes front, you’re still flying.”

He quickly jerked his head forward again as Sari glanced across the cockpit to check on the Batrachian. The frog-like alien was gasping for air, wide-eyed and terrified, but managed a weak thumbs-up with her webbed hand when she caught Sari’s eye to reassure her that she was alright. Sari gave her a brief thumbs-up back, hoping it would reassure her even as the Razor Crest careened out of the ice cavern haphazardly, spinning out of control before finally coming to a stop under a glacial overhang.

Din let out a slow breath as the X-Wings soared past them in the distance without spotting them.

“Okay. We’re clear.” He climbed to his feet, peering out the window and grimacing at whatever he saw on the outside of the ship.

“Another happy landing,” Sari deadpanned, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing to her feet to nestle Grogu on her hip. “We hit that glacier pretty hard, how bad is the damage?” she asked as the Batrachian climbed out of her seat, trembling.

“It’s-” Din didn’t get to finish his sentence as the ship rocked under their feet suddenly before the ice beneath it gave way, sending it twisting into another free-fall. Sari stumbled, grabbing onto the edge of the co-pilot’s chair to regain her balance as Grogu yelped with fear, clutching her shirt tightly.

The Razor Crest landed unceremoniously with a massive thud into a pile of snow, sending everyone flying. Sari had just barely enough time to curl around Grogu to protect him from the impact as her head slammed into the metal floor of the ship instead and she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Mesh’la: beautiful  
> Riduurok: marriage agreement; love bond between spouses  
> Riduur: gender-neutral term for spouse
> 
> Okay, so I was really debating whether to have this sappy conversation now or hold off until later in the fic, but I also wanted to give time between this sappy conversation and - well - the actual event that the sappy conversation is about *eyebrow wiggle* so y'all are getting a soft Sari/Din moment whether you want it or not lmao (though I'm sure there are plenty who might consider that scene too soft or too soon to be discussing such heavy topics but eh now that we're almost at 30 chapters, I'm kind of done with the slow burn lol)
> 
> Additionally having these sappy conversations allows me to delay the inevitable spider scene so two birds, one stone? 😂
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang is stranded in a frozen tundra.

_Muffled voices were arguing outside and Sari swallowed as she clutched her music box tightly, shutting its lid so that the melody wouldn’t give away that she was awake; it was so rare that she was allowed to remain awake without being forced to practice her magic, as she had taken to calling whatever it was that she did during the studies her father conducted._

_“You can’t do this!” That was her mother’s voice, angry and frustrated._

_“Asha, she’s far too used to the shock collar now and keeps speaking out of turn. And raising the voltage will only kill her at this point, so that’s out.” The voice that had spoken was her father’s - she would normally know that calm, quiet cadence anywhere, but his tone was starting to take on an edge that meant he was angry. “Vocal surgery is the only way to ensure-”_

_“She’s_ three _, Tarek! Of_ course _she’s going to try and speak if she hears everyone else talking out loud! Cutting her vocal cords isn’t the solution!”_

 _“Well, maybe she wouldn’t act out so much if_ you _didn’t encourage her,” her father snapped back._

_Sari inched back towards the wall, feeling for the usual loose panel behind her bacta tank and slipping behind it. She had made her little hiding spot comfortable over the several months since she had discovered the passage in the wall, piling what few toys she owned into it so that they wouldn’t be taken from her if she messed up an exercise._

_She could feel the dull heat of the lava below the building through the metal of the wall she leaned against; the passage led directly to an access corridor, which in turn led to a room with a massive pool of temperature-regulated lava below that she had accidentally discovered one day and had been lucky not to fall into._

_“I’m allowed to talk in here ‘cause Daddy can’t hear me,” she said hoarsely to the one-eyed doll that sat on the floor of her hiding spot as she set her music box down beside it. She kept her voice barely above a whisper, just in case the guards patrolling near the access corridor overheard her. “‘Sides, he’s busy fighting with Mama again outside.”_

_The arguments had become more and more loud and frequent these days, echoing through the hallways outside Sari’s room and talking about more exercises and blood tests and M-counts and just about everything else Sari hated._

_“I don’t want to do magic anymore,” she added to the doll vehemently, her voice cracking from disuse. “It’s too scary. Daddy made me break a block today with magic and the noise scared me. I don’t like breaking stuff.”_

_The doll couldn’t reply, but maybe that was for the best; it might have told her father about her talkativeness otherwise, something she would no doubt be punished for._

_“Sarika?” She flinched instinctively at the sound of her full name, but let out a quiet breath of relief when she recognized her mother’s voice. “Come on out, it’s alright. Your dad’s gone back to his lab.”_

_Her mother was the only one other than her who knew about her secret spot in the wall, so she felt safe crawling out through the loose panel and into the open arms waiting for her. If it had been her father, she would have gone to the access corridor and pretended to have wandered out of her room like she usually did to avoid anyone finding her hiding spot._

_“There you are, my love.” Her mother’s fingers smoothed down her messy curls and Sari peered up at her to find her smile tinged with sadness. “I know you get scared when we argue, but it’s going to be alright. Things are going to change after tonight.”_

_“To-?” Sari swallowed back the rest of the word before she could finish echoing it; her mother sometimes let it slip to her father if she spoke and she didn’t want to get shocked again._

_“You’ll have to go back to your tank until nightfall,” her mother murmured, her fingers trailing down to trace over the thin metal collar on Sari’s neck. “But I’ll come get you then, I promise.”_

_Sari wanted to know what would happen at nightfall - more magic exercises? More blood tests and needles? - but she bit her tongue instead to avoid the impulse to actually ask._

_“Come here, my starlight.” Her mother hauled her into her lap, stroking her hair slowly as she began to hum the melody from Sari’s music box._

“Boo-ee!”

_Sari was half-asleep by the time her mother scooped her up, placing her into her bacta tank and connecting her to the vitals monitor before shutting the door and pressing the button to flood the tank with bacta._

“Buir!” Tiny three-fingered hands patted at her cold cheeks frantically, the nails scrabbling over her skin.

_As she drifted fully into unconsciousness, she could feel the icy sensation of bacta engulfing her. She was so cold._

“Eeehhh!” Grogu began to wail from somewhere nearby and Sari jolted awake on the ice-cold metal floor of the Razor Crest’s cockpit. Her breaths came out in little white puffs as she struggled to catch her breath and wrack her mind for the details of her dream, but they were already slipping out of her reach like water through a sieve.

“Shh, shh,” she hushed Grogu instinctively when she realized he was still crying, pushing herself upright shakily and hauling him close as she glanced around.

Din and the Batrachian had been knocked out as well, the frog-like alien shivering in her unconscious state while Din lay half-sprawled against the control panel. His armor was covered in a thin sheet of frost and Sari realized that the ship’s walls were frosted over as well, turning the dark gray walls a misty white; they had been unconscious for at least a few hours.

Grogu hiccuped another sob into her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him.

“I’m here, it’s okay, sunshine. Shh.” She pressed a kiss against his forehead, ignoring her pounding headache as she stumbled to her feet. The beskar of Din’s pauldron was so cold beneath her fingers that it burned as she grabbed it to shake him awake. “Din, wake up.” When he didn’t stir, she shook him a little harder. “ _Din_!”

He started awake, groaning and clutching the side of his helmet instinctively where he must have hit his head on the control panel.

“Did we crash?” he rasped as he pushed himself upright, wavering on his feet.

“Yep,” she confirmed, clutching his shoulder to steady him.

“You’ve got a bruise here.” His gloved thumb brushed against her hairline and she winced as it pressed against a tender spot.

“I must have hit my head on the floor, yeah,” she admitted. “Are you okay?” She reached up instinctively, thumbing some frost away from his visor carefully for him.

“I’m fine,” he dismissed before his gaze turned to the trembling Batrachian. “We need to get her warm, she’s probably cold-blooded,” he realized. “There are blankets down below, can you go grab them for her? Check on those eggs while you’re down there.”

“Will do. Here, take Grogu, I think he got shaken up from the crash.” She pressed a still-whimpering Grogu into his arms before heading for the ladder, sliding down into the main corridor of the ship. “Oof,” she muttered to herself when she took in the massive gaping hole torn into the back of the ship, but decided that was a problem for a little later as she hurried to the stash of supplies to find their two spare blankets.

Thankfully, the tank of Batrachian eggs was still upright and secure in the cargo hold when she checked on them on her way back to the bridge; Din had secured them well before their all-too-short nap earlier.

“Eggs are safe,” she confirmed once she climbed back up into the cockpit with the blankets, finding Din leaning against the control panel and cradling Grogu against his shoulder while murmuring under his breath soothingly to the child in Mando’a.

The Batrachian was awake now as she sat in her seat, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and Sari slid one blanket around her shoulders. She croaked a thanks and then warbled a question about her eggs, to which Sari gave her a thumbs-up to reassure her of the eggs’ safety. Once the Batrachian seemed satisfied with her response, she passed the second blanket to Din and watched him swaddle Grogu with it as the child blinked wetly up at him before burbling something unintelligible and patting the side of his helmet.

“Think he’s still upset about the crash?” she asked, puzzled; it wasn’t often she was left in the dark about what Grogu was thinking.

“He got scared when neither of us would wake up,” he clarified and when she raised her eyebrows, he admitted, “I let him tell me. He also said you were dreaming about something that upset you.”

“I was?” Sari tried to think past the splitting headache she now had, but couldn’t wrap her mind around whatever she had dreamed about during her stint of unconsciousness. “Well, whatever it was, we’ve got literally bigger issues,” she dismissed, ignoring Din’s visor fixed on her worriedly. “There’s a massive hole in the back of the ship, probably from when we hit that glacier. That’s where the draft’s coming from.”

“Osik,” he swore, passing Grogu back to her and heading for the ladder. “Stay here, I’m going to see if we can somehow get the power online again and reroute the heaters up here.” He disappeared down to the main corridor of the ship and Sari could hear his footsteps retreating.

Letting a weary sigh, she sank into the co-pilot’s seat, adjusting the blanket around Grogu carefully as he gurgled worriedly up at her.

“I’m okay, kiddo,” she reassured him. “I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about.”

“Bwah,” he informed her.

“I was small in my dream?” she echoed, frowning, and he nodded his tiny head. “Huh.”

She remembered nothing of her time in the Imperial base on Nevarro she had spent the first three years of her life in, but now she suspected that she had purposely repressed those memories a long time ago, considering her ability - possibly Force-related, with how supernatural it felt sometimes - to remember everything else she deliberately committed to memory with perfect clarity.

“Eh?” Grogu’s eyes were large and fixed on her face anxiously.

“Whatever happened in that dream isn’t important right now,” she insisted. “We’ll worry about it later, okay?”

He whimpered softly, but obediently settled against her, allowing her to swaddle the blanket around him more tightly and press a kiss between his eyebrows.

“Main power drive’s unresponsive,” Din said loudly from the main corridor so that she could hear him, “And the hull’s lost its integrity like you saw.”

“Any chance we can start repairs before night falls?” Sari called back, but even as she peered out through the window at the gray skies above, she could tell that night was already approaching fast.

“Not before the temperature drops,” Din answered grimly even as she carried Grogu to the ladder and slid down into the main corridor. He was in the middle of hanging a tarp over the hole in the side of the ship to keep out the worst of the wind and snow as he added, “We’ll have a better chance of starting repairs in the morning.”

The Batrachian croaked anxiously as she followed Sari down, crouching beside her tank of eggs and examining them worriedly before croaking a question to Sari. She shook her head to indicate that they couldn’t repair the ship right away, miming the passage of time with a few hand gestures.

“She’s not happy about having to wait until morning,” she translated for Din’s sake when the Batrachian shook her head frantically, ribbiting again. “She’s scared of her eggs freezing.”

“They’re insulated in that tank,” he reassured her. “They won’t freeze.”

“Try telling _her_ that,” she said dryly, nodding to where the Batrachian was wrapping the blanket that had been around her shoulders around her tank of eggs carefully, as if the whole thing was one fragile egg.

Before Sari could react, a blanket that she recognized from their sleeping berth was slipping over her shoulders from behind.

“I’m fine,” she insisted over her shoulder, nestling Grogu in her arms carefully so that he could poke his head out over the edge of both blankets now covering him. “You’re the one literally covered in frost.”

“My armor’s insulated enough to keep me warm,” Din reminded her, “And you’re still dressed for Tatooinian weather.”

“Well, that’s easily fixable.” She passed Grogu to him before shrugging off the blanket around her shoulders and rummaging through a chest of supplies. She nudged aside a spare set of Din’s clothes before pulling out a dark winter jacket she had bought in town during their last visit to Sorgan. “Better?” she offered once she had pulled the jacket on and zipped it up.

“Better,” Din conceded before reaching out and tugging the jacket’s hood up over her head for her even as she rolled her eyes. “Stay here and keep the kid and the Batrachian warm, I’m gonna head outside and take a look at the rest of the damage.”

“Alright. Be safe.” She stood on her toes to press a mirshmure’cya to her partner’s frozen helmet before taking Grogu back from him and allowing him to slip out through the massive hole in the side of the ship.

Grogu let out a gusty sigh suddenly and Sari glanced down at him to find him eyeing the tank of eggs the Batrachian sat near longingly.

“I know you’re hungry, bud,” she reassured him, “But you know better than that, don’t you?”

“Feh,” he grumbled, but burrowed against her shoulder with an obedient nod.

“Thank you.” She dropped a kiss on top of his head before tucking him - blanket and all - into the front of her jacket to keep him warm. “Now let’s see about getting you and the nice frog lady some actual food, huh?”

* * *

“Well, you’re making a whole little nest in there, aren’t you?” Sari joked down to Grogu as he burbled back up at her, happily cramming pieces of bread into his mouth and spilling crumbs down the inside of her jacket as she sat against the wall and cuddled the little bundle that made up the child and the blankets she had swaddled him in close while sipping straight out of a cold can of soup herself.

The Batrachian croaked reproachfully from where she sat with her own meal beside her tank of eggs, her large eyes blinking solemnly at the two of them, and Sari sighed.

“Look, I know you don’t understand me, but making me feel guilty isn’t going to get this ship repaired any faster. Believe me, I want to get you to Trask so you can find your husband, but there’s a lot of damage that we can’t fix without a full maintenance facility. _Especially_ overnight.”

She did her best to mime what she was saying out loud as well, but the Batrachian either didn’t understand or didn’t care, too preoccupied with the well-being of her eggs. Sari didn’t blame her, but didn’t know what else she could do to assuage her fears.

“It’s pretty bad,” Din added as he made his way back into the ship before tucking the tarp back into place. “There are hull integrity breaches all around and we’ll be lucky if we can even get power back online, much less get the ship moving. And it’s definitely not happening tonight, anyway.” He waved away the can of soup Sari offered him and she set it aside again, making a mental note to force him to eat something later. “We can at least attempt to start repairs in the morning.” His frost-covered helmet swiveled around the main corridor curiously. “Where’s the kid?”

“Oh, he’s in here.” Sari nudged Grogu gently and he poked his head out of her jacket.

“Patu,” he informed Din, his voice muffled around a mouthful of bread, and Din barely stifled a snort of laughter in time as the child retracted his head back into Sari’s jacket to go back to his meal.

“At least he’s made himself comfortable.” Sari shrugged one shoulder.

The Batrachian croaked mournfully, turning their attention back to her as she glanced desperately between her tank of eggs and them.

“I’m sorry, lady, we can’t speak frog,” Din sighed, “We want to help, but we can’t do anything until the morning. So I recommend you get some sleep.”

Sari attempted to mime the instructions to the Batrachian, but she only blinked wetly back at them before turning back to her eggs to pat the side of the canister protectively.

“You should sleep, too,” Din added to Sari, his tone dry as he added, “I’m pretty sure you didn’t always have circles under your eyes like that.”

“I’m not tired,” she lied. “I might stay up a little longer and work on a sketch or something.”

“Boo-ee,” Grogu whined, wiggling out of the nest of blankets he had built for himself inside her jacket just enough to stretch his hands out for Din.

“Hang on, here.” Sari scooped the child out, passing him over to Din before tossing the blankets to him as well. “He’ll probably sleep better with you anyway since I’ll be moving around too much for him.”

Din took a deep breath, seemingly about to protest, but Grogu squirmed in his arms and his attention was drawn back to the child again, much to Sari’s relief; the last thing she needed was him questioning her reluctance to sleep.

“Fine,” he sighed, swaddling Grogu into the blankets and tucking the child against his chest plate with one arm. “But get some sleep once you’re done drawing, please?”

“Sure,” Sari agreed and waited for his breathing to even out once he had tilted his head back against the wall before climbing to her feet and taking a few quiet steps towards their supplies to retrieve their toolbox.

The Batrachian let out a soft, questioning ribbit and Sari pressed her finger to her lips before pointing to Din and miming that he needed to stay asleep; he had hardly gotten any more sleep than she had and needed the rest far more than she did. The Batrachian blinked at her before reluctantly glancing at Din and then nodding back to Sari in wordless agreement.

Sari gave her a faint, reassuring smile before tugging her jacket’s hood more firmly over her head and slipping out past the tarp into the freezing night, intent on at least starting some repairs so that they could get off Maldo Kreis all the faster.

* * *

“Wake up, Mandalorian.” The unexpected sound of a modulated voice had Din reaching for the blaster on his hip instinctively as he jolted awake, tucking Grogu more carefully into his side as he aimed the gun at the droid that had spoken - the Q9-0 unit that had accompanied Mayfeld and his team of mercenaries and had gone after Grogu before Sari had shot it. He _knew_ he should have disposed of the droid the moment they could have, but it had never occurred to him that it could come back online after- “This cannot wait until morning.”

He blinked, registering that a wire extended from the droid’s vocabulator to a commlink that the Batrachian clutched tightly in one webbed hand, her large eyes blinking wetly at him.

She croaked into the commlink and the droid’s vocabulator whirred back to life to translate, “Do not be alarmed. I bypassed the droid’s security protocols and accessed its vocabulator.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Din demanded, forcing his heart rate back down as he lowered his blaster slowly again, holstering it. Grogu stirred against his shoulder, burbling sleepily in protest, and he pressed his free hand to the child’s back to soothe him absently as he added to the Batrachian, “That droid’s a killer.”

“These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle. My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species,” the Batrachian insisted, “We have fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to. Your partner has already agreed to these terms.”

“My partner?” Din glanced around, finding no sign of Sari anywhere in the main corridor. “Where is she?” he asked, although he doubted the Batrachian actually understood him.

“She left to begin repairs on the ship two hours earlier,” the Batrachian informed him; maybe she _did_ have some kind of understanding of Basic, or maybe she had simply picked up on his growing panic. “I presume she is still outside.”

“She went outside in the middle of the night?” Din couldn’t quite stop himself from letting out a frustrated exhale as he pushed himself to his feet. “Look, lady, the deal’s off. We’re lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives, much less all the way to Trask.”

The Batrachian stared at him and he did his best not to let the reproach in her gaze get under his skin as she croaked into the commlink, the droid translating for her, “I thought honoring one’s word was a part of the Mandalorian code. I guess those are just stories for children.”

Grogu whimpered from the crook of Din’s arm and he glanced down at the child, who had begun to look around anxiously in search of Sari, before letting out a heavy sigh and heading for the tarp to push it aside.

“This was _not_ part of the deal,” he muttered to himself irritably as he stepped out into the snow. “Sari?” he called, swiping the back of his gloved hand over his visor to clear the frost from it so that he could search for his clanmate more easily.

“Up here,” Sari called back and he glanced up to see her sitting on top of the left engine, a welding torch in her hands and goggles covering her eyes to shield her from the bright light as she worked. “I thought you’d be asleep longer,” she added lightly as she set the torch aside and pushed her goggles up into her dark hair, which was spotted with tiny snowflakes where the hood of her jacket didn’t entirely cover her head.

“Why are you working on repairs in the middle of the night?” he demanded, setting Grogu down into the snow at his feet. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

“I figured I’d get a head-start.” Sari shrugged, grabbing the toolbox and sliding down from the engine again before brushing snow off her jacket’s front. “Besides, I’m not tired.”

“You’re freezing, is what you are,” Din pointed out, noticing the minute tremble of her shoulders beneath her jacket. “You should get back inside and bundle up.”

“I’m fine,” she dismissed, her attention already caught by another tear in the hull as she examined it critically. “I managed to fuse some of the smaller tears, but we’ve still got some major holes like that one.” She nodded to the tarp. “We had a fuel leak, too, but I managed to get that fixed about ten minutes ago.”

“Give the toolbox here,” he sighed, holding his hand out for it, and she reluctantly passed it over. “At least we might get something done faster if we’re both working.”

“Did the Batrachian wake you up?” she guessed, grinning wryly. “I did try to tell her not to.”

“She hacked the Q9-0 droid’s vocabulator to act as a translator,” he informed her and she wrinkled her nose thoughtfully.

“Wish _I’d_ thought of that. Might’ve saved me a sore throat from trying to speak her language. Guess it’s a good thing we kept that droid’s parts laying around after all.”

“And a good thing she decided to wake me,” he retorted. “Otherwise I might’ve woken up and found you frozen solid out here.”

Sari rolled her eyes, hopping back up onto the left engine and grabbing her abandoned welding torch. “I’m wearing a jacket, don't worry.”

“I think your skin’s turning blue,” Din informed her dryly and she pointedly ignored him as she fitted her goggles back over her eyes and went back to welding.

Grogu squealed suddenly in delight and Din glanced down to see him rolling little snowballs between his boots and marveling at how the powdery snow crumbled in his tiny hands.

“Alright, kid, let’s see about getting the power back online and warming up your buir before she freezes to death due to her own stubbornness,” he told the child.

“‘Lek,” Grogu agreed, his large eyes crinkling in a bright, infectious smile that Din couldn’t help but return despite himself, even if the child couldn’t see it.

“Pot, kettle, black!” Sari called down to them, but Din could see a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her blue-tinged lips as she worked.

* * *

“Okay, that’s the engine repairs mostly done,” Sari said with relief as she slid down to the ground again, the miles of snow crunching beneath her feet and cushioning the impact as well as if she’d landed on a downy feather-stuffed pillow. The icy wind bit at her cheeks when she lowered her hood so that it wouldn’t obscure her vision as she asked, “How’s the electrical work going?”

“It’s going,” Din answered wearily, his arm half-buried inside a large panel as he worked with a pair of pliers to reroute the wires. “Power’s barely working, but it should be enough to warm up the ship and get us through a manual take-off. Still need the nav system online if we want to actually make it to Trask, though.”

“At this rate, we should be able to get off-planet by tomorrow afternoon,” she reasoned, peering into the panel beside him and grimacing at the mess of sparking wires inside.

“Looks like it,” Din agreed.

“Bwah.” Sari glanced over at Grogu, who seemed to be frantically pointing to something on the other side of the ship. “Boo-wah. Oo-wah. Ma-tha. Ba-ba.”

“What’s he saying?” Din asked, his helmet tilting towards the child as well.

“Your guess is as good as mine, he’s not projecting anything at me,” Sari replied, shaking her head.

“If you’re not gonna tell us what’s going on, kid, why don’t you come over here and give us a hand?” Din said wryly to Grogu. “Make yourself useful.”

Grogu blew a raspberry back at him, bristling indignantly at the implication that he wasn’t being useful.

“Give the baby a break, he doesn’t really have opposable thumbs,” Sari teased as she turned back to the wire panel to examine what Din was working on, but then a packed ball of snow slammed into her shoulder, making her stumble. “Hey!” she protested, gaping at Grogu in shock when she found him staring back at her unrepentantly. “Did you just pelt me with a _snowball_?”

“Feh,” he retorted stubbornly before wandering off around the edge of the ship.

“I can’t tell if he used the Force to throw that or not,” Din said, sounding just as surprised as Sari felt.

“I’ll go see what’s bugging him, he clearly wants something,” she conceded, brushing snow off her jacket as she followed Grogu around the ship and grimaced at the sight of him pointing to a clean set of tracks leading towards an ice cavern. “Hey, Din?” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” he said distractedly; he must have gone back to his electrical work.

“Frog lady’s gone.”

“ _What_?” He appeared at her side in the next instant as if he had materialized out of the snow.

“Frog lady’s gone,” she repeated, pointing to the footprints in the otherwise-pristine snowfield.

“Bwah,” Grogu said smugly.

“Yeah, I know, you told us so,” she sighed, scooping the child up and brushing snow off his clothes before tucking him inside her jacket as he buried his cold nose into her neck for warmth.

“Stay near the ship, I’ll go after her,” Din decided, tapping the side of his helmet to switch it to thermal mode before taking off.

Rolling her eyes, Sari nestled Grogu on her hip comfortably before falling into step beside Din. He sighed heavily and she raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to argue against her and Grogu coming along. Thankfully, he didn’t protest, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her close as they followed the tracks into the ice cavern.

His armor was freezing, but she pressed into his side all the same, her free hand finding the small of his back and settling against the warmth she found there. He hadn’t been kidding about his armor insulating him well; he radiated heat like a furnace, which only made her curl in closer to soak up as much of his body heat as she could.

“She couldn’t have gotten far,” she pointed out, instinctively lowering her voice when it reverberated loudly off the smooth icy walls surrounding them.

“Have you _seen_ how far frogs can leap?” Din said dryly. “She probably could have.”

Sari wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. “Fair enough, but she’s not on all fours based on these tracks. They’re not spread out wide enough, so she must be just walking like normal.”

He glanced down at the trail they were following, his helmet tilting in consideration. “You’re right,” he agreed grudgingly after a moment.

“I usually am,” she pointed out cheekily.

He leveled an expressionless stare at her that she assumed was meant to be exasperated, though it was undermined by the frost gathering at the edge of his visor. She reached up automatically to thumb the frost away and he relaxed marginally again, letting out a quiet chuckle as he reached up to brush off the snowflakes that had fallen into her hair in return.

“Boo-ee,” Grogu whined to get their attention, squirming a little inside Sari’s jacket to extend his hand out and point to an opening in the icy cavern.

“Well, he’s right, that’s where the footprints are going,” Din agreed, reaching out to brush a gloved finger gently over the child’s head before reluctantly letting go of Sari to make his way ahead through the opening. “There you are,” Sari heard him say with obvious relief and hurried to join him in the ice cave.

Steam rose from a large hot spring in the middle of the cavern and the Batrachian sat in the water surrounded by her eggs, their tank sitting next to her clothes on the side of the spring. She croaked guiltily at Sari, who sighed wearily.

“She wanted to warm up her eggs,” she translated for Din’s sake. “Which I totally get, but _not_ while we’re stranded without a working ship,” she added to the Batrachian, knowing she wouldn’t fully understand it.

“Sari’s right,” Din added as he knelt by the hot spring, reaching for the Batrachian’s eggs to gather them slowly. “We can’t protect you out here. Let’s gather these back up and head back to the ship.”

Sari did her best to mime gathering the eggs and pointed at the cavern entrance to get his point across. The Batrachian croaked a reluctant agreement and Sari set Grogu down on the ground beside the spring so that she could help gather the eggs, hissing slightly when the hot water splashed against her chilled fingers.

“You okay?” Din’s helmet turned sharply towards her.

“I’m fine, my hands just went from cold to warm too fast.” She passed him a slippery egg and he cradled it carefully in his palm, lowering it into the tank again. As she reached back into the hot spring, she caught sight of Grogu reaching for an egg himself while burbling “patu” hopefully under his breath in her peripheral vision. “Grogu!” she said sharply and he froze, startled. “What did I say about that? Knock it off, I mean it.”

He huffed a little, but withdrew his hand obediently and retreated from the edge of the hot spring, allowing her to scoop up the egg he had reached for and place it into Din’s waiting hand.

“You ever think maybe he doesn’t know any better?” Din wondered as he set the egg into the tank.

“Oh, no, he knows better,” Sari confirmed, “He just wakes up every day and chooses violence instead. I think he gets it from his dad.”

She couldn’t see the expression on Din’s face as he aimed his visor at her, but she assumed it was unimpressed as she grinned, knocking her shoulder lightly against his before passing him another egg.

“Why do I put up with you?” he sighed as the Batrachian ushered her eggs closer to the edge of the spring to make it easier to gather them, but Sari could hear the smile in his voice.

“‘Cause you like when I play with your hair,” she pointed out and he huffed a wry chuckle.

“Really? _That’s_ the only reason you can think of?”

“Why, what other reasons are there?” she asked curiously.

“Remind me to list them when we’ve got a few hours to spare.” He ducked his head to press a mirshmure’cya to her forehead.

“Hours?” She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“You’re right,” he agreed solemnly before correcting himself, “A few _days_ to spare.”

“Pel kar’ta,” she teased, elbowing him affectionately. “Maybe that can be a new nickname for you.” She was positive that he was rolling his eyes at her under the helmet as she passed him the last of the eggs within her reach.

“Eeehhh,” she could hear Grogu begin to wail behind her and spun around, startled, to find him wobbling as quickly as possible down the icy hillside towards her, weaving between oddly shaped rocks that were beginning to split down the middle as spindly legs pierced through them like they were made of paper; belatedly, Sari realized that they were eggs.

“What happened?” she demanded as she climbed to her feet, snatching Grogu up quickly, and he buried his face into her shoulder, trembling - whether it was from fear or the cold, she couldn’t quite tell.

“Oh, _no_ ,” Din said abruptly, his tone grim.

“What?” She looked up from the child in her arms and felt her stomach flip with nausea as she stared at one of her worst nightmares come true.

Hundreds of small white spiders had begun to hatch and clamber their way out of their eggs, their tiny pincers dripping with saliva as their multitudes of dark eyes focused on Din, Sari, Grogu, and the Batrachian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Mando'a translations:
> 
> Buir: gender-neutral term for parent  
> Osik: shit  
> Mirshmure’cya: Keldabe kiss; slang for head-butt; literally 'brain-kiss'  
> ‘Lek: yeah; slang form of 'elek' or yes  
> Pel kar’ta: sap; literally 'soft heart'
> 
> *slams fists on the table* BRING ON THE SPIDERS! Holy shit, okay, I've postponed the spiders long enough with fluff, they're on their way now lol apologies to Sari in advance for putting her through both her and my worst nightmare.
> 
> Also, y'all finally get some context as to the straw that broke the camel's back for Sari's mom getting her out of the Imperial base 👀 (also Dr. Amin where you at I just wanna talk 🔪). I was originally considering sprinkling in more flashbacks like this as she slowly unearths the memories she'd suppressed all those years ago, but honestly, this might be the last one because everything else I wanted to cover from Sari's past was basically in her file and I don't want to rehash them over and over to take away from the actual plot. We know most of Sari's backstory now, so it's only a matter of her processing it and moving forward with her new family 🥰
> 
> And I toned down Grogu's eating of eggs drastically on purpose, btw, it's specifically because Sari is reining him in and he'd feel guilty disappointing his mama 🥺
> 
> One last thing! I added a new song to my playlist for this fic, which I'm gonna consider as Sari and Din's wedding theme for when they inevitably tie the knot *eyebrow wiggle*: [I Will Wait - Meghan Tonjes (feat. David Fertello)](https://open.spotify.com/track/3KJmSSE6eIunrApcf96ZlS?si=ufnwYiAVSNafBg8tPizhQQ) ([bonus: you can listen to me covering this song here!](https://batsingotham.tumblr.com/post/645672215424172032/did-a-cover-of-i-will-wait-by-meghan-tonjes))
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm sorry not sorry for that cliffhanger lmao


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